A Vow Yet Unbroken
by butterflyKisses26
Summary: Left on the doorsteps of the church as a baby, Juliana has known nothing other than life in the convent. Now she is traveling to Arthur's court where she will meet a knight who makes her quesiton her entire life and beliefs. Please R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No, I do not own King Arthur whether it's the movie or the legend of the countless stories told about him. I do, however, own all original characters, this plot line, and the title.

Spoilers: This story takes place a few years after King Arthur leaves off.

Author's Note: This idea struck me as soon as I watched King Arthur and I just knew that I had to write it down. How often I update will be determined by how much interest I have in the story and by how many reviews I receive. So, if you like this story make sure that you review because the more reviews the more inspiration I'll probably have.

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A Vow Yet Unbroken

Chapter One

Lush green grass joined with a cobalt blue sky that was devoid of clouds. The hilly countryside rose and fell away beneath the feet of the caravans horses. Trees stood off in the distance, their abundant foliage green and brilliant beneath the warm summer sun. Air, as clean and fresh as you could breathe, filled the lungs of the men and women traveling across the twisting dirt road.

From inside one of the many carriages that traveled the road, Juliana pushed aside the heavy veil that covered the window and stared out at the beautiful landscape. She'd never seen anything so wonderful and luxurious. The vastness and beauty of it all put Rome's craftily and carefully architectured city to shame. The land had been untamed, welcoming its visitors with an openness and tranquility which Rome lacked. She breathed in deeply, her nose out of the window and inhaling the deep rich scent of earth and water and air. This was God's creation at its best and Juliana couldn't imagine anything more beautiful and soul-stirring than what she was seeing and experiencing right then.

"Juliana, what in heaven's name are you doing?" The screech broke through the stillness. The young woman jerked as a hand pulled her back from the window.

"Get away from there this instant." The veil dropped back over the window and she turned, her eyes adjusting once more to the gloom, to face her riding companion.

"I am sorry, Mother Superior." She replied, her head dutifully bowed and her eyes lowered. Her fingers twisted together where her hands sat in her lap, knuckles turning white as she listened to Mother Superior's admonishment.

Outside of the carriage she could hear the creaking of the carriages' wheels, the snort of the horses as they struggled up the hills, the sound of the birds that took flight from the trees, and the rippling of the brook that ran alongside the road. Each noise joined together until they were a mighty chorus that signified the life outside Juliana's promise; her vow to God.

Her fingers twisted into the black fabric of her nun's dress. Juliana had made her vows to the church when she was barely sixteen. The Sisters had raised her and life at the convent was all that Juliana knew. But now it was all about to change.

The caravan from Rome was heading towards Britain and, more importantly, to the court of Arthur. Arthur Castus, a former Roman centurion, had begun his own town, his own kingdom: Camelot. Rome was against it, but knew that Arthur had much too powerful an army behind him to object. They allowed him his Camelot on one condition, that he have the word of God preached to his people. Arthur had agreed, being a Christian himself, and allowed for a church to be erected near to his own home. The church would also serve as a home for the nuns and the monks who traveled now to Camelot to preach to the pagans who resided in the land.

Juliana glanced longingly at the covered window, wanting nothing more than to gaze, at least once more, upon the beautiful countryside that they passed through. She had lived her life cloistered behind high gray walls. She knew no beauty beyond that of sparse gardens that the nuns grew near the walls.

Stifling a sigh, Juliana sat back on the hard wood bench on which she sat and listened as Mother Superior continued on her rant about the barbarians that inhabited the surrounding landscape.

> > > > > 

The nickering of a horse brought Juliana out of the deep sleep into which she had been lulled by the rocking of the carriage and the heat that had gathered under the mid-day sun. Beside her, Mother Superior was snoring loudly.

Juliana sat up straight on the bench and, after glancing at her companion to make sure she truly slept, pushed aside the veil. Her breath caught in her throat.

Camelot was like a dream. Gardens grew everywhere, and not the colorless gardens which the nuns grew, but lush and beautiful gardens full of color and life. The buildings were of wood and stone, their colors bright and new in the fading light of dusk. People bustled about, finishing up the last of their work before night fell. They all looked so happy to her, none of them looked as if they regretted what they did or as if they were being forced to do their work. They all seemed to take a real joy in it. Even the children laughed as they herded the chickens into their coops.

Juliana had never seen any place so peaceful.

Rome was a harried place. People seemed only to want to do their work and get home before it was too late. They didn't want to wander the streets and simply drink in the joy and beauty of the day. But Camelot's people seemed to take joy in every single moment, every single chore. This was their home, and they took a pride in the fact that they had helped to build every single building, every single wall; stone by stone.

The caravan moved towards the largest building. A palace among the small houses of the village. People watched curiously as the carriages passed. Some followed the caravan towards the large home, while others remained to finish their chores.

With a jolt, the carriage came to a sudden stop and Juliana was thrown against Mother Superior's ample side. The older woman came awake with a jerk. She cleared her throat, her double chin wobbling slightly.

"What is going on?" She asked Juliana, her voice harsh and commanding.

"We've arrived, Mother Superior." Juliana replied, head once again bowed.

"Good." Mother Superior adjusted herself on the bench. "This journey has been too long. Not good for an old woman like me to travel this far."

Juliana bit back the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Mother Superior, for as long as Juliana had known her, always complained of being too old to do things and yet she did them anyway.

The carriage door opened and the driver offered his hand to Juliana. She took it gratefully and allowed him to help her down from the carriage. Her feet hit the hard packed dirt and a jolt was sent up her spine. She had been sitting, cramped in that small carriage for too long and her limbs refused to work. Forcing herself to walk a few steps, she waited for Mother Superior to step down and take the lead.

A handful of men walked down from the open door of the mansion. Juliana tried to keep her eyes on the ground, but could not resist sneaking a glance at these men. Having been hidden away in the convent her whole life she had never laid eyes on any men other than the monks who resided in the monastery just across the wall from the convent.

Her eyes scanned the men, taking in their rough and tumble appearance and the pride in which they carried themselves. A sword was strapped to the belt of each man, the fading light glinting dully off the polished blades. Juliana gulped. Weapons of destruction and death. She couldn't help but think of the lives that had been taken by those blades; of the sons and fathers dead and buried because of the wars that had been raged on this land. There was a power within those blades and within the men who wielded them.

Around her, Juliana could hear the other sisters and monks exiting their carriages and joining her. Mother Superior stood in front of the cluster of holy people, her body a shield to protect them from these ungodly people.

"King Arthur." She said, inclining her head to the man who led their welcoming committee.

"Mother Superior, we are grateful to have you and your companions with us." Arthur replied, bowing his head to the imposing woman.

From beneath her habit, Juliana studied Arthur. He wasn't too old, barely thirty-five by her guess. And he was handsome. Powerful and manly with an air of mystery about him. Juliana liked him instantly.

"It is good to be here, Arthur Castus." The older woman said. "We hope that our being here may bring God into this forsaken land."

Juliana winced at Mother Superior's words. Tact was not a word associated with the head of the nuns. She saw the men surrounding Arthur tense and their hands move instinctively to their sword hilts.

"Yes," Arthur seemed unaffected by her words and his calmness eased the tension that wafted off his men like a foul stench, "well God's will be done however He wish it."

His easiness about the situation caused Juliana's respect for the man grow.

"Please, won't you and your companions come inside. My wife, Guinevere

has had the staff preparing a feast all day."

"I am sorry, my lord, but we shall not partake of this feast that has been prepared."

After the long journey, Juliana's stomach was growling and ready for a feast. She felt as if she could eat for ten days and never be full.

"We wish only to be shown to the church and to our quarters."

"Surely you will want something to eat." Arthur seemed shocked, the first real sense of emotion that Juliana had seen from him, that someone would refuse his invitation to a fine dinner.

"We only request bread and water as we will begin to pray and fast before we begin our duties of bringing these people to God."

"Very well then." Arthur nodded. "Jols, please take these people to the church and help them to settle in."

A man stepped from the group that stood with Arthur and nodded his head at the king. As their group was led away, Juliana cast a last look at Arthur and his men. They stood, watching the nuns and monks as they walked to the church, their mouths moving in a conversation too far away for Juliana to hear. There was something about these men that drew her to them. She wanted to learn more about them, to listen, entranced, as they told her their stories. She wanted to know everything there was to know. But most of all, she wanted that freedom, that purpose, with which they carried themselves.

> > > > > 

So, what did y'all think? I know that this chapter wasn't very exciting, but I promise that it will get better. If I got anything wrong- like if I spelled a name wrong or something- please tell me and I'll make sure to fix it as soon as possible. Also, as I'm not Catholic I might get some things wrong about the nuns and stuff, so please tell me if I did. Please review and give me your honest opinions of this story. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The knights watched as the black clad nuns and monks dressed in garbs as dark as mud drifted past them; all heads bowed except for that of the head nun, who walked with her chin high and her eyes narrowed.

"I don't like this, Arthur." Bors barked. "Them comin' here won't do any good. They'll just foul up our air with their talk of God." He spat on the ground.

"Bors is right, Arthur." Galahad agreed. "We don't need them here. Do you really think our people will accept them. We don't want anything to do with this god of theirs. You should send them back to Rome."

"No." Arthur spoke firmly, his jaw set. "I won't risk a war with Rome. We're too weak to withstand any attack by Rome's army."

"Ah let 'em come. We'll make those bastards turn tail and run." Bors grinned wickedly.

"I don't want to hear anymore of this talk." Arthur snapped, looking each of his knights in the eye. They were so few now; too many had lost their lives in battle. Arthur's heart still ached at the thought of losing Lancelot, the best friend and knight he could ever have asked for.

He looked back at the somber group that approached the church. Rome was sticking its nose where it didn't belong, and Arthur was swiftly losing his patience with the empire. But if building this church, and telling Rome that he would "convert" his people to the Christian way, would keep the bully of a empire off his back, Arthur was prepared to do it and bare the ridicule that would most certainly arise from his people.

He turned back to his knights.

"Come," he said more gently this time, "let us go and eat. It's been a long day."

> > > > > 

Juliana washed the dirt and grime off her face and neck with the cold water that she had drawn from the church's well. Patting her face dry with the rough towel that had been provided for her, she tried to hold back the sigh that threatened to spill from her lips. It had been such a long, hard journey from Rome and all she could think of was what a nice hot bath would feel like. But no, nuns were not allowed that luxury. They, instead, lived simply without life's comforts and lavishness.

Running a hard-toothed comb through her hair, she worked out the tangles that had formed before pulling her hair once more up into her habit.

Juliana longed to see the view outside her room's one small window, but the sun was already set and the night had descended long ago. She had been too busy caring for Mother Superior to note the passing of the sun from the sky. Now, finished with her chores and prayers, Juliana was granted the rest of the night to herself. But there was not much she could do. The one candle she had was nearly out and that meant that she would soon have to retire to the small, hard bed that served as the only furnishing in her new room.

A slim beam of moonlight traveled through the window, spreading across the cold stone floor. Juliana felt herself being pulled towards her window. She was one of the lucky nuns. Most had to share a room. But Juliana, being the personal attendant to Mother Superior, was afforded her own room, one that adjoined with that of Mother Superior. A blessing and a curse.

A cool breeze wafted in through the open window, brushing across Juliana's face with the gentleness of a lover. She sighed contentedly. Juliana might not have been allowed all the things that most young women her age were allowed, but life was still good to her. What more could she really need than a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and God in her heart?

The walls felt all too close to Juliana right then. It might have been bedtime for the rest of the nuns, but for Juliana it was time to explore. The young woman craved space and freedom and air untainted by the incense and candles that burned in the sanctuary directly below her room. She turned from the window and slowly opened her door, making sure that the hinges did not squeak and alert Mother Superior that one of her precious nuns was out after night prayers.

Stepping lightly on the stone floor, her bare feet making barely a sound, Juliana hurried down the stairs and out the door.

> > > > > 

The church was separated from Arthur's home and court by a low wall. Juliana climbed over the stone wall easily without her nun's garb to limit her movements. The wind had picked up slightly and blew through the light shift she wore. She had been too impulsive in leaving the church and had forgotten to pull her dress on over her underclothes. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, and Juliana rubbed her arms to try and bring the warmth back to them.

Drunken laughter and bawdy singing traveled on the wind. Juliana listened silently, trying to gauge how close she was to the revelry. The sounds were distant enough that Juliana felt safe to continue with her night prowlings. She took a cautious step forward, glancing over her shoulder at the darkened windows of the church. This was so unlike her, to feel so trapped within the church and to wish for escape. Juliana loved the church, she loved the closeness to God it provided her. But here, in this strange land, away from all that was familiar to her, she wanted the freedom she'd never had.

A garden rose up before her, its flowers and trees lit mysteriously by the silver light of the moon. The sight was as close to Eden as Juliana could imagine. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh aroma of the flowers, their scents mingling to form a heady perfume. All around her crickets chirped, adding their song to that of the town's people who celebrated God knows what.

Light spilled out of an open doorway some yards away from Juliana. Shadows danced in the pool of pale yellow light. Juliana watched them, entranced by their depraved dance. It was like watching the shadows of a nightmare: so beautiful yet so wicked. Juliana felt herself unable to pull her eyes from the scene.

Unwittingly, Juliana took a few steps towards the doorway. She wanted to see this sinfulness for herself, to see what the allure was. She was drawn, like a moth to a flame, to this wantonness.

A figure stumbled out the doorway, shoulders hunched as if he had been pushed. He stumbled forward slightly and fell to his knees. Juliana, frightened and fascinated at the same time, was unable to move from her spot. He pushed himself back to his feet and moved to turn towards the door, but his eyes caught on Juliana.

> > > > > 

Surely this creature that stood before him was a dream. He had never, in all his life, laid eyes on a vision such as she. In the moonlight she was pale, her skin nearly as white as the garment she wore. Hair that was nearly as red as fire fell down to her waist in loose curls. Her eyes were wide, catching the light of the moon within their depths.

He took a step towards this vision, his drunkenness nearly dispelled at the sight of her. Her eyes widened even more, pulling him in. He moved closer and closer until there was barely a breadth of air between them. Her head was tilted back and she gazed up at him with a gaze so innocent that he wanted to take her right then and there.

They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment. He studied her, taking in her dark eyes and pert mouth and small nose that had freckles traveling across it. She was unlike any woman he had seen before, not just in looks but in the naivety that seemed to cover her like a shroud. She truly was not of this land, maybe not even of this earth. He slowly reached out to touch her. The pale skin that looked so soft in his slowly sobering sight was just too much temptation for him. His fingers nearly brushed her cheek when she turned and fled.

> > > > > 

I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but y'all will soon see that I am a fan of writing short chapters. Occasionally I'll write a decently long chapter, but most of the time my chapters are roughly three pages. Anyways, please review and tell me what you thought.

grullo-cowgirl: It's so cool to know that I have a reader as loyal as you who likes to read my work no matter what the genre. Thanks.

Mandamirra10, KingArthurgirl, Wander of the Roads, and Sweek A.K: Thank you all for thinking that this story is interesting and original. I was really worried when I started writing it that people would think the concept was stupid, but you guys have helped me to realize that it's a good idea.

KnightMaiden: Sorry to tell you that everything that happened in the movie happened in the story. Right now I'm not sure who Juliana is going to end up with. It's kinda between Galahad and Gawain. Both guys have something unique to bring into the story, but I'm still deciding. And why don't you want it to be Galahad? Hugh Dancy is super hot! Lol. But of course the guy that plays Gawain (I can't remember his name) does kinda remind me of Heath Ledger's character in A Knight's Tale. Oh gosh, this is such a deliema. Lol.

the sarahnater, MedievalWarriorPrincess, and Evenstar-more2004: Thank you all for reviewing this story. It really means a lot to me that you guys would take the time to read and review my work.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The singing of the early morning birds broke through the fog that muddled Juliana's tired mind. She woke groggily, not wanting to open her eyes to the invading sunlight. There was nothing more alluring to her right then then the sleep that hovered just at the edge of her reality. Roosters added their crows to the cacophony. Juliana wanted to throw her pillow at the annoying birds, but instead buried her head beneath it, hoping that the flat pillow could block out the invading sounds. No such luck.

There was no excuse to Juliana's tiredness. She was used to waking before the sun even tainted the horizon. But not this morning. This morning she woke with a headache that she could only explain as a hangover, even though she had only ever touched un-watered wine for communion and Christmas. She had no reason to feel this way.

An image from the night before floated before her mind's eye. The drunken knight and his slow advance towards her. The feel of his body so close to hers, his breath warm on her face. The look of pure want and desire in his eyes. His hand, strong and calloused, making its way towards her face. And his lips, carefully framed by a dark beard, so beautiful and manly and desirous.

Juliana bolted up in bed. She should not be having these thoughts. It was a sin. She was a bride of God for heaven's sake. She could not think of a man in this way. If Mother Superior ever found out she would have Juliana sent back to Rome, and that was just something that the young woman could not allow.

Crossing herself quickly, sending up a prayer of forgiveness, and rattling of a rushed Hail Mary, Juliana stepped out of bed and dressed quickly. She had chores to do and she was probably already late for morning Mass.

> > > > > 

Groaning, Galahad turned onto his back and clutched his head. He had a hangover that could rival his worst battle wound. His whole body felt as if it were trapped in a vice and pulled into every different direction. Too much wine had been consumed the night before. Galahad winced at the sound of the roosters' crow. The damned animals were going to die.

"Wake up you lazy bastard." Someone pushed at him. Galahad groaned. Whoever it was that stood over him had better leave him alone or he would not be responsible for his actions.

"Get up, we have work to do." The hand pushed at him again. Galahad swatted it away much as if it were a fly.

"That does it."

Galahad felt his mattress being picked up and felt himself flying through the air only to land on the wooden floor of his room.

"Damn it." Galahad cried, struggling to his feet. His vision swam slightly and his supper threatened to revisit him. Gawain stood in front of him, lips parted in a mocking laugh.

"What was that for?" Galahad spoke slowly, concentrating on keeping the food in his stomach.

"It's past sun-up." Gawain said casually, as if he were simply paying an easy visit to his friend and fellow knight.

Galahad cast a look out the window to see that the sun was indeed already above the horizon. He cursed beneath his breath and rushed to get ready. Arthur would have his head if he was late for sword training, again.

Gawain laughed gaily as the younger knight struggled into his leggings and fumbled with his sword belt. Galahad shot him a look, but the other knight continued with his laughter. Shaking his head, Galahad focused on buckling his belt and adjusting his sword so that it was within easy reach.

"How can you be so awake after the night we had?" He couldn't resist asking the laughing knight.

"I did not drink nearly as much as you and Bors." Gawain said.

The two knights walked out of Galahad's room and headed down to the practice court where Arthur was, no doubt, already waiting for them.

They passed through the gardens- the shortest route to the training yard- and the vague memories that Galahad of the night before floated to the forefront of his mind.

A maiden had been there, one that he had not recognized as being of Arthur's court. She had to be an apparition, a figment of his imagination. No Britain nor Roman had hair the color of fire or eyes as gray as smoke.

Remembering her fair skin, barely covered by her flimsy shift, and her soft, curved figure, Galahad could feel his blood pooling in his nether regions.

He shook his head forcefully, extolling the memories from his mind. His head needed to be cleared if he were to fight well that morning. There was no need for distractions, especially the kind that come from sprites.

Arthur was waiting for them in the practice yard, a stern, unyielding look on his face. His jaw was set firmly and he looked every bit the king that he was.

"We are not that late, are we?" Galahad asked, slightly frightened by his commander's stern gaze.

"No," Arthur shook his head slowly, "you are not late."

"Ah bloody hell." Bors stumbled into the training yard, clutching his head. His face was deathly pale with a tinge of green. Galahad praised whatever gods there were that he did not look nearly as bad as his friend.

Arthur turned his formidable gaze onto the latest arrival.

"Good," he said nodding slightly, "we may go now."

Galahad was beyond confused. What the hell was Arthur talking about? Go where?

Arthur started across the yard, heading in the general direction of the church.

"Just where the bloody hell are we going?" Bors voiced the question that the three knights were all thinking.

Arthur continued on in silence.

"Arthur, what is going on?" Gawain asked. Arthur turned to survey his knights, his gaze softening slightly.

"My friends, we are going to church."

Galahad stopped mid-step. Church? He would give his life for Arthur, he would endure torture for his king, but Galahad drew the line at church. He would not step foot in a place where he knew religion would be forced down his throat until he could take it no more and would go mad. No, he would not do it.

> > > > > 

Galahad could not believe that he was walking into the church behind Arthur. The king had offered them no alternative. They were being made to go. But then, Arthur had explained it in a way that made sense.

The one nun, the one that seemed to rule over the others, was under the thumb of Rome and that of Bishop Germanous. She was to report back to Rome whether or not Arthur and his court were attending the Masses held or not.

Arthur did not want to risk her sending back a report that said that none showed up to Mass. He would not allow his people to come under Rome's attack if it were the last thing he did.

Though Galahad understood now, he still did not like the fact that he had to attend church when he did not believe what it was that they taught there.

He followed Arthur inside and stopped just in the doorway, afraid to step over the threshold. What would happen when he stepped inside? Would he be struck dead? Ha, the idea made him laugh. But still, Galahad was edgy about stepping inside the stone building.

Behind him, Bors pushed roughly on his back. The burly knight was no more in the mood to step inside the church than Galahad was, but he also didn't want to be kept outside all day. Galahad drew in a breath and stepped over the threshold.

Inside, the church was just as plain and bare as it was on the outside. There were no decorations besides the large crossed, ornately carved from the trunk of a cedar tree, which hung on the wall behind the pulpit where the priest would deliver his sermon. The benches on which the knights sat were made of wood and un-cushioned. The floor was plain stone, and there was a row of small window on either side of the sanctuary. A table sat in front of the pulpit, a basket of bread and a metal goblet sat on top of it.

Galahad glanced over his shoulder and saw that the rest of Arthur's court was filing into the church behind them. Not one of them looked happy to be there.

Arthur led them down to the front where Guinevere was waiting for them. She looked uncomfortable, shifting on the bench and casting looks at the people around her. Arthur laid his hand over hers and she stilled. Galahad watched as they spoke to each other, not with words but in glances. It was as if the couple had their own secret language which no one else was privy to.

He took his seat, Bors and Gawain beside him, and waited for the service to begin. The nuns filed in through a side door and took their seats facing out at the congregation. Galahad allowed his eyes to sweep their faces. The women looked old beyond their years, as if service to their god drained them of their very life. Most were stooped shouldered and had wrinkles etched deeply into their faces. A handful still held onto their youthfulness, but not many. One woman caught Galahad's eye. She was younger than the rest, many years younger in fact, yet she seemed old. Her face was solemn and there were lines already forming at the corners of her eyes. Those eyes, Galahad recognized them. The very same eyes that had stared back at him in the garden the night before.

> > > > > 

Juliana felt as if someone were watching her. Glancing around her discreetly, she was shocked to see the man from the previous night. She studied him. In the early light of morning he looked just as roguishly handsome as he had in the night. Juliana mentally chastised herself. It was time to focus on God, not on the knight seated in the front row.

Father Gannis entered the sanctuary and the service began. Juliana went through the motions of worship; saying her prayers in a trance. Her eyes could not, or possibly would not, stray from the knight's face. What was more shocking than her unusual lack of reverence, was that the knight seemed to be watching her as well. A blush threatened to color Juliana's face, but she held it at bay. Blushing in front of the entire church would not be a good thing to do.

The sacraments of bread and wine were given over an hour later and Father Gannis dismissed the congregation. Juliana filed out of the church with her fellow Sisters, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at the knight that still watched her.

> > > > > 

So, what did y'all think? I know it's a little slow moving right now, but it should pick up soon. Galahad and Juliana will be thrown together a bit more and there are some things that I have planned to happen that should be a little shocking. Anyways, please review as I am anxious to hear (or rather read) what y'all have to say.

homeric, Evenstar-mor2004, greenDayzIdiot, MedievalWarriorPrincess, the sarahnater, mistygayle, lozcollie, Alexis in Wonderland, chickenliver, and KinghtMaiden: Thank you all so much for reviewing. I really like knowing how much you guys enjoy this story.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The week passed swiftly. Juliana's days fell into a steady rhythm. Her mornings were spent in prayer and doing whatever errands Mother Superior needed done. In the afternoon she would work in the vegetable and herb garden that the nuns had cultivated on their third day. The days passed without Juliana's noticing.

After that first night, Juliana no longer wandered out of her apartment after dark. She stayed where she was safe, not from lustful knights, but from her own sinful thoughts and actions. But still, no matter how much she worked and kept her mind focused on God, thoughts of the young knight would invade her mind. She thought of him whenever she allowed her mind to slip from its pious thoughts. It did not help her any that she had not seen him since Sunday Mass. Because of that, she thought of him more, wondering what he was doing at that moment. Her thoughts drove her to Confession almost regularly and she gladly paid her punishment of thirty Hail Maries a day. But no matter what she did, she still could not drive his roguish face from her thoughts.

Monday donned with the sound of the roosters' crows. Juliana woke from a fitful sleep. The knight had been in Mass the morning before, sitting in the exact spot as the Sunday before that and never taking his eyes off Juliana. It had frightened and thrilled her at the same time. To think, a knight was intrigued by _her. _The very thought of it sent an excited shiver down her spine. Juliana knew it was wrong, she knew that she had made a vow to remain chaste and never marry. But the idea that a man wanted her was too alluring to pass up.

Rousing herself from bed, Juliana drifted to the wash basin and silently washed her face. No doubt Mother Superior would soon call her and give her a list of errands and duties that needed tending to.

Juliana didn't mind much that Mother Superior was always calling on her. It was, after all, the elder woman who had generally taken care of Juliana when she'd been left on the convent's stoop all twenty-one years ago. Ever since she could remember, Juliana had been there to help Mother Superior, even before she had changed from Sister Sarah to Mother Superior. She could remember kneeling beside the elder nun as a young girl barely older than five to help the Sister in the garden. She had been like a mother to Juliana, always looking out for her, punishing her when the young girl did something wrong. She was the closest thing to a mother that Juliana had ever had.

Pulling on her drab, black dress and habit, Juliana made her way down the stairs to the back of the church where the kitchen was located. A handful of nuns were already busy kneading the dough that would be made into their breakfast.

"Ah, Juliana, take this and gather some thyme for me. Father Gannis has come down with a head cold and I need it to make a poultice." Sister Helen said, handing Juliana a basket. Though Juliana had taken her vows just like the rest of the nuns, none referred to her as Sister Juliana. They had all basically known her since a child and had grown too used to referring to her as simply Juliana.

She took the basket without a word and headed out into the brisk morning air. Beneath her bare feet the earth was damp and the grass was wet with glistening dew. Juliana couldn't resist squiging the earth between her toes as she walked to the patch of earth that housed their garden- a handful of transplanted herbs which they had brought with them from Rome and some vegetable plants that Arthur gave to them from one of the fields that supplied his court.

Kneeling down in the dirt, Juliana dutifully collected the thyme, along with some other herbs which could be dried or used for other medicinal purposes. The earth felt cool and malleable as it pressed between her fingers and gathered beneath her nails. A slow smile drew across Juliana's lips. She just loved the feel of the earth. As a little girl she used to love playing in the garden, making mud pies, and throwing dirt clods at the nuns. A laugh bubbled up from her throat as she remembered what a little terror she had been as a child.

Having collected all she needed, Juliana brushed the dirt off her dress and headed back across the small courtyard. The clang of iron striking iron caught her attention and Juliana cast a look at the small wall that separated the church courtyard from the town around it. Curious, Juliana changed her direction and headed instead for the east side of the wall. Dropping the basket by her feet, she stood on her tip-toes and looked over the wall.

> > > > > 

Gawain ducked beneath Galahad's swing, taunting the younger knight as he did so. Bors roared with laughter from where he watched the two; a collection of his children, watching the knights with wide-eyed wonder, at his side. They cheered whenever one struck a blow and happily joined in with taunts and jeers of their own.

Any watching could easily see that Gawain had the upper hand in their little battle. Galahad was tiring slowly, his movements slow as his arms began to ache from the weight of his practice sword- specially made swords that weighed more than the knights' regular swords. They helped the knights to build muscle and make their blows in battle even more deadly.

The older knight pivoted, bringing the blunted edge of his sword across the crook of Galahad's elbow. With a curse, Galahad's sword dropped to the dirt and Gawain picked it up triumphantly.

"What do you say, Galahad," he smiled teasingly as he handed the knight his sword, "best two out of three?"

"No thank you." Galahad took his sword from Gawain, a scowl on his face. Gawain couldn't resist laughing at his friend's expression. Galahad's scowl only deepened.

"Very well then my friend." Gawain replied gallantly. He turned to challenge Bors, but his eyes caught on a face peeking over the wall just behind the large man. A smirk spread across his lips.

"It would appear that we have an audience." He said, just loudly enough for the young woman to hear him. Her eyes widened. She knew she had been caught. Quickly, her head disappeared behind the wall and Gawain laughed uproariously. It struck him as beyond hilarious that one of the pious nuns would be interested in watching men battle with swords. Perhaps having them around would not be so bad. Gawain's smirk turned wicked. To think the fun he could have corrupting a nun.

> > > > > 

Juliana leaned her back against the wall and place a trembling hand over her racing heart. They had seen her. Juliana hadn't intended for that to happen. She hadn't intended to watch them for as long as she had, but she couldn't help herself. The way that they had moved, their bodies like water, their movement languid and graceful- in a deadly way. It had all been so entrancing that Juliana had lost track of how long she watched them. She had meant to only take a quick peak and see what the sound she had heard was, but instead she had stood there, transfixed by their lethal dance.

"Juliana?" Sister Helen's voice carried across the courtyard. Juliana quickly grabbed her basket and ran to meet the nun.

"Here I am." She said, slightly out of breath from her sprint.

"What has taken you so long? I only asked for a few sprigs of thyme. Have you been day dreaming again?" Through the reprimand, Juliana could hear traces of mirth within the Sister's voice.

"I'm sorry, Sister Helen." Juliana apologized sweetly. "The day is just too beautiful for me to concentrate on my work."

Sister Helen laughed openly then. It was a deep sound, unbefitting to the slim woman.

"I won't tell Mother Superior if you don't." She whispered conspiratorially to Juliana. The young woman smiled.

"Thank you."

> > > > > 

Yippee, another chapter finished. I really am on a roll right now. But then again, this happens to me a lot. Soon I'll have writer's block so badly that I won't be able to update for awhile. Of course now that I've said that I've probably jinxed myself. Oh well. I'll make sure that I work hard to update this story regularly. I'm really enjoying writing it and I'm glad that you all love it so much.

PS. Sorry if the chapter was kinda short. The next one should be a bit longer.

**Wander of the Roads**: Yes I agree that Rome probably wouldn't have been that interested in whether or not Arthur and his people attended Mass, but there's a reason that I said that they had to go. It was sort of my way of showing how Rome was trying to still have control of Britain. Sort of think of it as Rome wanted to make sure that they still had a small hold over Arthur's people. My way of thinking is neither Rome nor Arthur knows how weak the other is. So Rome wanted to keep a watch on Arthur and his men and wanted to make sure that Rome could still hold some control over them. Does that make sense? As for Tristian dying, yes he did. As I said before, everything that happened in King Arthur the movie has happened in this story. Which, sadly, includes the deaths of Lancelot, Tristian, and Dagonet (did I spell his name right?). Also, you'll be seeing more of the knights as the story progresses, don't worry.

**greenDayzIdiot**: I'm sure church was very long and drawn out back then. I'm just glad we can have contomperary services now, or else I would be so bored sitting in church on Sundays.

**sarmatian-woman**, **MedievalWarriorPrincess**, **KnightMaiden**, and **the sarahnater**: Thank you all for reviewing. I really love seeing what you guys have to say about my story, my writing style, and everything else.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The morning- aside from being caught watching the knight's practice their sword fighting- had been uneventful for Juliana. She had worked steadily in the kitchen with the other nuns and had helped Mother Superior with her correspondences with the main church back in Rome. Her work was finished by the noon meal and Juliana had the rest of the day to do whatever it was that she wished.

After much thought- she didn't want a repeat of her first night in Camelot- Juliana decided to explore the town and its surrounding land.

She moved through the town, taking in its quaint homes and gardens. The people she passed nodded politely at her. A few glared, but most were cordial. Juliana felt light and free outside of the church's walls and she smiled happily at the people, no matter how they felt about her.

Her wanderings soon found her in a mass of open land that rested inside Camelot's walls. There were mounds of raised earth, white wispy plumes of smoke wafting up from a few. Curious, Juliana approached, wondering where she was. Swords were thrust into some of the mounds. It donned on her. This- while different from the ones in Rome- was a cemetery. The swords marked their graves as those of warriors and those without swords held villagers within their earthen prisons.

A shadow crept over Juliana's heart as she knelt beside a grave that held a large sword. Who was buried here? How had he died?

Her fingers gently traced the unornamented hilt. The metal felt cool beneath her fingertips. Power seemed to radiate off the portion of blade that glinted in the sunlight. Her fingers moved down the blade, feeling the power and rage that resided inside. Despite its deadliness the sword was beautiful. Juliana felt a surge within her. She wanted to hold the sword, to feel the weight of it in her hands, to swing it and feel the same power that the knight who had wielded it had felt when he struck down his enemy.

Startled by her thoughts, Julian withdrew her hand with a gasp. Where had these thoughts, these urges, come from? She crossed herself swiftly and muttered a prayer of forgiveness.

"What are you doing here?" The harsh voice startled her. Juliana stood and twirled around quickly, too quickly. She lost her balance and fell to the ground with an _Oof. _

With wide, frightened eyes, she looked up at the man who had startled her. It was the knight from the garden! Her eyes, if possible, grew larger. She hadn't been so close to him since that night. Seeing him there, in the open, sunlit plane only made her see just how handsome he truly was. The beating of her heart increased and her breath came in short bursts.

It was from fear and fear alone. At least that was what she kept telling herself. Juliana did not wish her reaction to him to be from anything but the trepidation that she would repeat her sins from that night.

His eyes bored into hers, impatiently awaiting her answer.

"I…" Juliana's tongue would not form the words that tumbled through her mind. "My lord, I…I was just-"

"Shouldn't you be saying prayers or something." His gruff tone surprised her. It was so out of character from the man that he had been in the garden, barely more than a week ago. His words, and the tone in which he spoke them, riled Juliana's defiant spirit.

She pushed herself to her feet and, being only a few inches shorter than the knight, stared him straight in the eye.

"Last time I checked with the king, _my lord_, I was put under the impression that I was free to roam this village as I pleased." Juliana could not hold back the biting sarcasm within her voice any more than she could have kept the sun from rising. The outrage that she felt towards this knight for questioning her- _her_, a woman of _God_- emboldened her. She took a step towards the man, then another, and another, until she was nearly pressed up against him. Her finger poked his chest. God was he muscled.

"So do not proceed to tell me what I may or may not do. I do not answer to you and I never shall." She tilted her head back so that her eyes were still staring into his. Oh those eyes. Juliana couldn't have forgotten how beautiful they were even if she tried.

Tense moments passed as the two continued to stare at each other. Juliana felt her heart beating rapidly against her rib cage and she was fairly certain that the young knight could hear the loud thumping. Suddenly, the knight's lips parted in a smile and a hearty laugh bubbled up from his throat. Juliana stared at him. Surely this man was insane. What man in his right mind would laugh after a woman- and a nun no less- dared to stand up to him in such a way? She took a step back, just in case he decided- in his deranged state- to grab her and do…_something_ to her.

"You are by far the most fascinating woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." He said. When he wasn't speaking so harshly, Juliana had to admit that he had a nice voice. Very smooth and commanding. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

"My lord, I must confess that I do not know what you mean."

His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look at him once more. The hand that held her chin captive was just as strong as Juliana had imagined it to be. Her blush deepened as her thoughts quickly turned to ones of an unholy nature. She gulped. This man made her more nervous than she had been when first taking her vows.

"Please," he said, "call me Galahad. I am not gentlemanly enough to be called a lord." The roguish grin that he gave her sent a shiver down Juliana's spine.

"And what can I call you?" He asked, an eyebrow quirking in question.

Juliana dared not give him her name lest he use the information for a gain that would not please God. But, despite the protests within her mind, she wanted desperately to give him her name.

"Juliana." She whispered, lowering her eyes. Giving him her name was an act so intimate that she was certain she was committing a sin. Men need not know the names of the Sisters who work in the church. They should not have contact with them or speak to them. To do so is to set temptation in the Sister's way. A temptation that no nun should give in to.

"There," he dropped his hand and Juliana instantly felt the loss of contact, "that was not so hard, was it?"

Juliana's eyes flew back up to his. He was laughing at her. There was a mirth within those eyes and laughter in that voice. Juliana did _not_ like to be laughed at. Especially not by a man who had no respect for her or her faith. Incensed, she _harrumphed _and stormed past him.

> > > > > 

Galahad watched her storm away, chin held high and her jaw set defiantly, with a grin on his face. That little nun had more fire and spirit in her little finger than most women had in their whole bodies. As the black dot of her clothing disappeared into the village, Galahad could no longer hold back the laughter that had threatened to spill over as she had acted like an inexperienced child. But then again, she was inexperienced, wasn't she. Wasn't it frowned upon for nuns to fraternize with men. Especially men like him who did not have a single good intention in their body.

With a shake of his head, Galahad ceased his laughter. He hadn't come here to flirt with a nun. He had come here to pay visit his fallen friends and to pay them his respects.

Galahad knelt by the grave that the young woman, Juliana- her name sounded so sweet coming from her finely shaped mouth- had been kneeling by when he had first approached. He'd been so shocked to see her at Tristan's grave, reverently touching the hilt of his sword, that he had been brusque with her. It wasn't his fault that he had acted that way. She just had that effect on him. Of course he hadn't known that it was her when he'd first seen her. All he had known was that some nun was at his friend's grave. He had thought that some nun had come to pray over the dead bodies of those who rested here. And if Galahad knew anything about his friends, it was that they would not appreciate their souls being prayed for to a God they did not believe in.

After nearly an hour spent at the cemetery, Galahad returned to Arthur's court. Dusk was settling and soon the evening meal would be served. Galahad was looking forward to drowning his thoughts in ale or mead.

The whole time that he had been visiting his fallen comrades, Galahad been thinking of Juliana and Juliana only. He needed to clear her from his mind. It was not good for him to think of her. He knew that. She was a nun for heaven's sake. There was no reason he should pursue her. She would never go to his bed, so why chase her when there were many woman who were willing to give him the pleasure of their company during the long, lonely nights? But Juliana would not be so easily wiped from his thoughts. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. The desire was like a fire that burned at his very soul.

Galahad groaned as he trudged back to the village. He was in desperate need of a dip in the cold river.

> > > > > 

It was slow going at first, but I got this chapter finished sooner than I thought I would. I hoped you all liked it and will review.

Wander of the Roads: I'm glad that my explination made sense. I look forward to your "nit-picking" on this chapter.

KnightMaiden: I'm fairly certain that Juliana is going to be paired up with Galahad in the end. But who knows what Gawain has up his sleeve.

grullo-cowgirl, homeric, chickenliver, Alexis in Wonderland, the sarahnater, and greenDayzIdiot: Thank you all so much for reviewing. I really love reading what you all have to say about this fic and about the characters and everything. Please keep it up.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Nearly a month passed before Juliana saw Galahad again. He had not attended Mass for the weeks following their encounter in the cemetery, and, despite herself, Juliana found herself wondering where he might be. She didn't want to think of him. No, she wanted to wipe all remembrance of him from her mind. But Galahad's ruggedly handsome face and roguish smile would not be effaced from her memory.

It was barely past sun-up on the day that she would next encounter him. Juliana was wide awake, despite the early hour, and hungry for an adventure. The weeks following her visit to the cemetery had been spent at Mother Superior's constant beck-and-call. She had had little time to herself and was ready to feel the untamed wind on her face and soak up the sun's hot rays.

There were not many things that Mother Superior actually approved of other than prayer and meditation with God. Juliana's painting, however, was one of the few exceptions. Since she had first picked up the brush of a traveling artist, Juliana had loved to paint. She had some talent and was pretty decent; though she still had a long ways to go before she was able to compare herself to the true masters. There hadn't been much time for painting when the news first came that the nuns were leaving for Camelot, and Juliana missed the smells of the paint and the feel of the brush in her hand as it moved across the canvas. She could practically taste the thrill of completing a work. Her fingers itched to hold a brush, to glide across the blank white canvas leaving streaks of brilliant color in her brush's path. The urge was so overwhelming that Juliana had started to become antsy as she sat about the church saying her prayers and doing her chores.

Mother Superior had held firm to Juliana's staying near to the church. She told Juliana that if she wished to paint that she could do so in the church's courtyard. But Juliana's yearning would not be satisfied with the dull courtyard as a subject. No, she needed the open space where land meets sky to serve as her backdrop. So, with much begging on Juliana's behalf, Mother Superior relented and gave the young woman permission to leave the church's walls to paint. The catch: she would need a knight to accompany her for protection, along with an escort should the knight decide to get a little…frisky.

Juliana stood in the stable, gently petting the horse that the stable hand had saddled for her. Sister Martha- a heavy set nun whose face was permanently set in a scowl- was staring dubiously at the horse that had been assigned her. They stood in silence, awaiting the knight that Arthur had said would accompany them. Juliana was anxious to get going. She didn't want to waste a single moment of daylight. The sun had already crested the horizon moments ago and every minute after that was precious to Juliana's artisan mind.

A shadow filled the stable's open doorway and Juliana turned to see which knight Arthur had sent. Her heart stopped when she saw him. Galahad.

Her fingers tightened in the horse's mane, causing the chestnut mare to toss her head in protest. Galahad's eyes caught Juliana's and he winked at her. Sister Martha, who was too busy trying to mount her own mare, had not seen Galahad's flirtatious wink. And for that, Juliana was glad. The news of it, had the old nun seen, would have been immediately reported to Mother Superior and Juliana might have lost any and all privilege to paint outside of the courtyard.

In response to the wink, Juliana simply scowled at Galahad. She prayed that he would receive the not so hidden message in her glare and leave her alone. She did not need him distracting her.

Juliana deftly mounted the mare and shifted so that she could sit comfortably in the side-saddle. Galahad mounted his own horse and guided the ebony mare out into the village, not even bothering to look back to see if Juliana and her escort were behind him.

The ride out to the open planes was short, and for that Juliana was glad. Not only was the side-saddle extremely uncomfortable, but Sister Martha looked as if she were about to fall off her horse. And Juliana did not need her escort to get hurt since it would mean that both women would have to return promptly to the church.

> > > > > 

Galahad reigned his horse in and dismounted easily. He turned and watched as Juliana easily jumped from the back of her own mare and offered her assistance to the older nun- who smacked her hand away and struggled down from the horse unassisted. Galahad snorted and shook his head.

Why did Arthur have to assign him this task? Why not Gawain or Bors or one of the lesser knights? Yes, one of the lesser knights would have been glad to take on such a task, so as to prove to Arthur that they would do any task, no matter how trivial, for him. Galahad would have gladly given the task to one of them. He didn't want to spend any more time than necessary with the nuns, even if Juliana was one of them. Especially if Juliana was one of them. He didn't need her around, constantly reminding him that there were actually some things that were out of his reach, that he could not have. Galahad did not need that reminder- his constant thinking of Juliana served well enough for that task. But yet there he was, stuck babysitting an aged woman and a woman who would not be thrown from his mind- or his dreams.

The old woman set a blanket out on the ground in the shade of a large oak and sat down. It wasn't long before her snoring disrupted the peaceful stillness of the grassy plane. Galahad shook his head with a mirthless chuckle. Some chaperone she was.

Some distance away, Juliana sat, her shoulders bent and her eyes scanning the trees in the distance and the small stream that filtered past the small party. A small table had been set up beside her and jars filled with varying colors sat atop. She held a brush in her hand, her fingers wrapped delicately around the handle and a white canvas rested on her lap.

A loud snore broke through the air. Galahad sighed. It was going to be a long day.

> > > > > 

The sun was warm on her back as Juliana sat painting, and sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead. She could already feel it dripping down her back in little rivers. She cast a look at Sister Martha, who slumbered beneath a nearby tree, and bit her lip. Thinking it safe enough without the elder nun's watchful eyes, for the moment, peaceably closed, Juliana set down her brush and pulled off her headdress. Her hair fell down around her shoulders and her head felt instantly cooler.

With a happy sigh, she returned to her painting.

> > > > > 

Galahad could no longer concentrate on sharpening his sword. He had been busy concentrating on the blade and the stone which he used to sharpen it and not noticing Juliana, or trying not to at least. But his plan was shot to hell as soon as her hair came loose. He would never forget that hair even when he lay cold in the grave. He'd never known anyone with hair so red. It drew him in, like a moth to the candlelight; or a drunk to his ale.

He tried to shake himself from his self-imposed trance, but his eyes would not stray from her. As if she could feel his eyes on her, Juliana looked up. Her eyes widened slightly, as if she had forgotten that he was even there.

Not knowing what he was doing, but feeling drawn to his actions nonetheless, Galahad stood from his seat on a large rock and walked over to where Juliana sat. With each step he took, Juliana's eyes grew wider and more fearful. It was as if she knew what was in his mind, what he was going to do, before Galahad could even comprehend them himself.

"Please," she whispered as soon as he was within hearing range, "please don't come any closer." Her voice trembled with each word she spoke.

"Why not?" His own voice was harsh to his own ears in comparison to Juliana's. She dropped her gaze from his.

"For I fear what would happen if you should."

Galahad could not help but notice the pink that tinged her cheeks as she spoke. So she felt it too?

"And what do you think will happen?" He couldn't keep the hint of teasing, nor the hint of want, from his voice.

Juliana's blush deepened until her face was nearly as red as her hair.

"I dare not say lest I put thoughts in your mind that were not there before." Her eyes were fixated on the painting on her lap and her fingers tightened around the brush she held until her knuckles were white.

Galahad took a step closer. He wanted to see her reaction; to know what was going on within the confines of her mind. Juliana's shoulders stiffened, but she made no move to get away from him. He took another step and her breathing became noticeably sharper. He went to take another step, but was halted by the hoof beats of an approaching horse.

"Galahad." Gawain reigned his horse in mere feet from the pair. Galahad cursed beneath his breath. Damned Gawain. Why did he have to ride up just as Galahad was finally making a small step of progress with Juliana.

"What?" He asked tersely, wishing Gawain gone. He had not missed the look that the older knight had cast at Juliana from atop his horse.

"Arthur wants to meet with all the knights. There are issues that must be discussed post haste." Gawain answered, ripping his gaze from Juliana's bowed head. Her hair still remained uncovered and Galahad found himself wishing that she'd never taken off her headdress in the first place.

"Very well." Galahad nodded his head. "We'll pack up now and return immediately." Gawain returned his nod and turned his horse's head in the direction of the village. Galahad cast one last look at Juliana, who was swiftly gathering up her paints, and went to un-tether his horse.

Beneath the oak, the old nun still snored, unaware of all that had transpired.

> > > > > 

Yippee, another chapter done. So, what did you guys think? Was it good? Please review and tell me what you thought.

Wander of the Roads: Lol. Thanks for pointing out my spelling mistake. I didn't even know that I had done that. Now before you say anything about it, I have no clue when paint was invented or if nuns were allowed to paint (I would think that it'd be frowned upon, but that's just me). So, now feel free to nit pick whatever you want 'cause I love to know what you notice about my story that I've missed. :-)

Evenstar-mor2004: Lancelot and Dagonet are also dead.

Homeric, the sarahnater, Alexis In Wonderland, and KnightMaiden: Thank you all so much for reviewing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Juliana could have beat her head against the stone wall of her room until her head bled and still she would not have been able to rid herself of the memory of that day. She had come so close to losing all control. If the other knight had not shown up, Juliana had no clue what she would have done. He had saved her from actions that should never have even entered her mind and she was grateful to him, whatever his name was.

After returning to the church, Juliana had promptly retired to her room for hours of meditation and prayer. She had to clear her mind, rid herself of the evil thoughts that had invaded her. She was afraid to look at any of the other Sisters, afraid that they would be able to read her mind and know what had nearly transpired that morning. So, Juliana remained hidden away for the rest of the day.

The moon had risen, casting pale, silver light over the velvet black sky and the dark land that rested beneath its canopy. Juliana knelt by the side of her bed, her lips moving in a silent prayer to the saints. She sought their strength and their willpower, anything that could help her to rid herself of her evil and sinful thoughts. Her knees were sore from kneeling on the stones for hours on end and her back was sore from keeping it straight and rigid, but still Juliana prayed. She would not be deterred from her task, not until she had received a peace of mind and body and soul.

A soft knocking broke through Juliana's prayer. She continued on, however, ignoring the knocking which had become persistent. Her words were now spoken aloud in an effort to mask the continuous knocking.

"Juliana." The voice was muffled coming through the heavy wood door, but still it sounded loud in Juliana's ears. Her eyes snapped open, her prayer effectively cut off. Knocking she could ignore, but a voice she could not.

She struggled to her feet, her body stiff and sore, and walked over to the door. Sister Helen stood on the other side of the door.

"I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you." Sister Helen grinned, her eyes twinkling with laughter. Then she turned suddenly serious. "You haven't been out of your room all day. What is going on?"

"I needed time in solitude." Juliana replied crisply. Solitude was something that all nuns could understand. Often times being in solitude was the best way in which to hear God's voice. So she gave Sister Helen an answer that she could understand in hopes that the other nun would leave her alone once more.

"Oh," Sister Helen nodded her head. "Well Mother Superior has called a meeting and wants you down to the kitchen immediately."

Juliana stifled a sigh. She did not want to go down and join the other Sisters at the meeting. If she did she was certain that they would read the truth within her eyes. Nuns had fraternized with men before, they had fallen from their pious and chaste stature and the consequences had been dire. Juliana did not wish that fate upon herself. She would have stayed holed up in her room for the rest of her life if it meant that she would not be cast from the church. But when Mother Superior demanded something, it was equally unwise to disobey her.

> > > > > 

Galahad drank deeply from the jug of ale that he held. The liquid felt warm and burned the back of his throat slightly as he drank.

The meeting that Arthur had called had run until after supper. The talking had bored Galahad slightly. Always it was the same thing: Discussions about the Woads who still refused Arthur's rule, talks about the surrounding lands and fields and the crop that they yielded, and Rome's constant presence in Camelot. To tell the truth, it was a dull task to be a knight when there were no battles to fight.

It was after dark, and steely gray clouds, laden with rain, were begin to obscure the moon. It would be a downpour this time; a rain whose downpour could cause flooding in the fields if the farmers didn't listen to the winds. The knights were gathered as they always were at night, drinking ale and beer and whiling away their time with the villagers at the small tavern. It was their way to unwind after a tedious day of doing absolutely nothing.

Glancing around the tavern, Galahad watched his friends. Bors stood by the counter stealing kisses from his mistress and the mother of his growing brood of children as she worked serving the town's men and women. Gawain sat at a table, playing a drinking game with a group of hearty looking men, a busty woman perched on his knee. Had they not lost so many of their friends, Galahad was certain that the tavern would have been even more boisterous then it was right then. Lancelot would have been deep in a game of dice, losing his money whenever he wasn't trying to seduce the women. Tristan would have been besting the village men at knife throwing, gaining jealous glances from the men and amorous gazes from the women who had tried to bed him but had been constantly turned away. And Dagonet, good kind Dagonet who looked more evil than he truly was, would have been drinking right beside Galahad in companionable silence. They had lost so many in the past years. It saddened all who remembered the knights that had passed from this world to think that they would never again see their dear friends and companions.

Galahad sighed and took another swig of ale. It felt good to forget his troubles, even if for a moment.

"Well what do we have here?" Zephaniah, a young woman with long brown hair the color of the most fertile soil and eyes that were a brilliant blue, asked. She brushed her fingers over Galahad's shoulders as she moved to sit on the bench beside Galahad. Zephaniah was young, barely past her seventeenth summer, but already she was one of the most beautiful women in the village. And her eyes were set on Galahad. She had made her intentions known to him on more than one occasion, but she was still very young and Galahad had no wish to take an inexperienced maiden to his bed.

_You say you don't want an inexperienced maiden in your bed, and yet you constantly think of a young nun during those long nights when you have no companion, and sometimes even then._

The voice within Galahad's mind was annoying beyond words and he wished nothing more than to rid himself of its nagging presence.

He took a long drag of ale before focusing his attention on Zephaniah, whose hands were now trailing softly along his thigh.

"Such a handsome man should not be sitting alone." She purred, casting lustful eyes upon him. "Surely you don't wish to be so."

"I like my solitude." He replied gruffly. His body was reacting to her closeness and soft caresses. But Galahad had not come to the tavern with the idea to take a woman to his bed. And he did not intend to change his mind.

Zephaniah, however, was not deterred from her mission.

"All men may like their solitude, but they only choose to be alone when there is no woman to keep them company." She moved in close, her words brushing against his ear gently. There was not a breath of air between their bodies, and Galahad was losing the fight against his desires. Zephaniah knew how to stir a man's emotions, to make his blood boil with the desires of the flesh. She could manipulate a man to do whatever she wanted with a simple bat of her eyelashes. But Galahad had no wish to be one of those men.

He moved away from her, but Zephaniah quickly closed the gap between them once more.

"Come now, Galahad, don't be like that." She pouted, her full lips looking irresistible to any man's eye, even Galahad's.

Never before had he fought so hard against his body's wants and desires. So why then, did he fight himself now? Why didn't he simply take Zephaniah back to his room if she wanted to go with him so badly?

_Because you cannot stop thinking of Juliana_. The voice had returned. Galahad stifled the annoyed growl that threatened to escape his lips.

Why should he think of Juliana? The girl was a nun; pious and chaste. She had no desire to give herself to a man. She had committed herself to a life of purity. And so Galahad would leave her: untouched and pure. Even in the rare chance that she should lose her judgment and give herself to him she would, most likely, be so burdened by guilt that her actions would be unpredictable and she might even take her own life. Galahad could not have innocent blood on his hands. So, with a drink, he banished all thoughts of her from his head and then led Zephaniah away from the tavern and into the darkened streets.

> > > > > 

A slightly short chapter, but I hope you guys liked it. Updates might be few and far between now because my family is preparing to move in just a few weeks. I promise, though, that I'll try and get as many chapters out as I can before we have to pack up the computer. Lol. Anyways, please review and tell me what y'all thought of this chapter.

Wander of the Roads: Wow what a long review. Lol. I love it! Your reviews never cease to amaze with how insightful they are. It's so frickin' cool. Thanks for the nitpicking. I like to see what little mistakes I might have made so that I can improve upon them in the coming chapters. Please keep reviewing because I love to read what you have to say.

KingArthurgirl, TRISTANLOVER, grullo-cowgirl, KnightMaiden, greenDayzIdiot, Alexis in Wonderland, the sarahnater, problemgirl088, andDazzler420: Thank you all so much for reviewing. It really means a lot to me that y'all would take the time to tell me what you think of this story. Thanks.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Galahad groaned and placed a hand upon his aching head. He felt as if his skull had been caught by the butt of Gawain's ax. Not even the deepest pits of hell could possibly make Galahad feel as horrible as he did right then.

He rolled over in his bed, but his movements were halted by a solid object beside him. Squinting through aching eyes, Galahad tried to make out what made the lump in his bedcovers. For a moment his thoughts were blank, then his actions the night before returned to him in a rush. Zephaniah.

The young girl had succeeded in seducing him; the ale that he had drunk that night had not but helped her cause. Galahad stifled another groan. How could he have been so hasty in taking her to his bed? Zephaniah was nothing more than a girl. She was seventeen, more than old enough to have her own family by now, but she was still too young for Galahad's taste. He had never meant to take her innocence from her, but she had thrown herself at him in such a way that it was nearly impossible to resist.

His thoughts on Juliana had not helped his battle, however. Just the thought of her sweet, innocent face could drive Galahad mad with lust. He wanted Juliana more than he'd ever wanted a woman. But the fact that he could not have her was more than he could bare. And so, he had taken Zephaniah to fill Juliana's place.

A feeling that Galahad had not felt too many times in his life settled in the pit of his stomach. Guilt. Guilt about taking Zephaniah in such a way as to fill another woman's role. Guilt about not being able to stop himself. Guilt about thinking only of Juliana as he took Zephaniah's innocence.

He had been so driven by his own lust that he could not remember if he had been gentle with Zephaniah or if he had just taken what he needed from her.

Beside him, Zephaniah stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, her long full lashes fluttering softly. She stared up at Galahad, a happy and triumphant smile spreading across her perfect lips, still swollen from the night before.

"Good morning." She purred, reaching up and gently caressing Galahad's face.

Obviously she held no regrets for their actions.

The covers fell off her as she positioned herself above Galahad. Her body was perfect. Galahad had not noticed it before, too driven by his desires to waist the time to take the fact in. She was thin and her curves were in all the right places. No doubt every man who had ever looked upon Zephaniah would be jealous once they learned that it had been Galahad who had taken her first.

But he did not care about that. He cared only that Juliana never learn of his actions. That she never hear of how he had so carelessly fallen into bed with a woman. Her opinion of him would no doubt suffer for it.

Zephaniah's lips descended upon Galahad's. She kissed him passionately, her naked body rubbing against his own. Galahad felt the same stirrings as the night before. Soon he would be unable to control himself.

With a great deal of effort, he gently pushed Zephaniah away from him. She looked at him, troubled. No doubt she wondered what she had done wrong. Galahad could see the questions in her eyes, but he could not answer his own questions much less hers.

"Galahad?" Her hand rested on his shoulder, her skin warm and tempting.

He stood, needing to put as much distance between himself and Zephaniah as possible.

"Arthur insists upon the knights' presence in church." He said in way of an excuse. Quickly he pulled on his pants and shirt and left the room, cursing himself the whole way.

> > > > > 

Never before had Juliana dreaded Mass, at least not until that very moment. The thought that she would see Galahad frightened her. Surely, should anyone look upon her, they would see the feelings she held for the knight written clearly across her face. No longer could she deny the fact that she felt something for him, even if it were nothing beyond the lust of the flesh. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to kiss his lips and feel his beard tickle her face. She wanted to be with him in a way that she had never wanted to be with any man. The sinful nature that Juliana hadn't felt since she was a young girl returned to her full force. Never before had she wished so badly to not be a nun. She wanted to be free of the church and her commitment to God so that she could pursue Galahad as she had never before pursued a man.

She sat with the other nuns in the front of the church. Mass had begun ten minutes before and already Juliana felt her thoughts slipping from the service. Galahad was seated with Arthur and the other knights, and his presence was most distracting to her worship. She fought to keep her eyes focused on her hands, which she held tightly clasped together in her lap. But his presence was too demanding. She caught herself sneaking glances of him as Father Gannis continued on with his sermon.

Juliana prayed silently for the strength to keep her focus on God and not on the knight whose eyes refused to travel from her. Her eyes moved to meet his once again and she was startled by the raw emotion she saw playing in his eyes. He wanted her just as surely as she did him. The thought both frightened and thrilled Juliana. To think she, a woman of God, could entice a man so handsome. He probably could have any woman he wanted, and yet his eyes were on her and her alone. Juliana felt her pulse race at the thought of it. Her blood boiled within her veins with a feeling she had never felt before. Desire. Desire for something that was not Godly lest it be within the confines of marriage.

_But I shall never marry_, she reminded herself, all thoughts of concentrating on Mass gone from her mind. _I am committed to God and the church. I shall never take a man as my husband. I shall never know the way it feels to be held by strong arms and kissed. Surely every young woman has had these thoughts. Why then should I not?_

She dropped her eyes down again. Her thoughts were not of God. Satan was tempting her. Surely that was the only explanation. No man could ever want her. She was no beauty like Queen Guinevere or the women in the village. Homely was the only word that Juliana was certain could describe herself.

_This is simply just a game that he is playing with me._ Her thoughts continued. _He cares not for me, but for the chase. He wants only to prove to his friends that he can get even a nun to fall for his charm_. Even as she thought this, however, Juliana knew it was not true. What man could act so well? Surely the way that he looked at her came not from a desire to prove something to his friends, but from his own heart and emotions.

Juliana tried to shake herself of all the thoughts, the questions that flooded her mind. But they would not let go their hold. Their claws gripped her mind, refusing to loosen their hold.

> > > > > 

Zephaniah still lay in his bed when Galahad returned from church. She stretched leisurely, the candlelight catching on her tanned skin.

Galahad turned his attention to the window, anything to keep from looking at Zephaniah's body. The rain clouds still hovered; their color darkening with each passing moment, keeping the sky a deep black. But the rain held off. It would come down soon, though. And when it did, no one would be safe from its downpour.

> > > > > 

A short chapter, I know. Sorry I didn't make it longer, but I like writing shorter chapters. Don't ask me why, I just know that that's what I like. Anyways, please review and tell me what you thought.

Wander of the Roads: Hope this chapter had enough emotional struggles for ya. Lol

KnightMaiden: I have a lot more in store for Galahad and Juliana before they can become a couple. That is _if _they become a couple.

I'm Seeing Stars, TRISTANLOVER, grullo-cowgirl, greenDayzIdiot, MedievalWarriorPrincess, the sarahnater, and problemgirl088: Thank you all so much for reviewing. You guys rock!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The days passed as swiftly as a snail crawls along the ground. The air was damp and humid with the threat of rain. The sky was darkening daily and the clouds hung heavily on the horizon. But still the rain did not come. Camelot's citizens were on edge as they awaited the deluge. Many believed that this was the gods' ways of showing Arthur their displeasure in him allowing Roman footsteps to soil Britain's pure earth. Such whisperings soon reached the ears of Arthur and his men. The king denied such claims, stating, instead, that the weather was simply off. But still the people were tense, awaiting some form of action that would speak true the events that were happening.

Juliana sat in her room, staring out the window at the dark land. It was midday and still the sun had yet to show its face. She was growing restless. Mother Superior would not allow her to roam, nor to continue her painting beside the stream. Cabin fever was setting in and Juliana wished for nothing more than to escape the drab stone walls that kept her locked inside. With the days as dark as they were, it was difficult for Juliana to know just how long she'd been stuck inside. Her guess: nearly a week.

The threat of rain was getting to everyone. Even the most jovial of nuns were beginning to become testy and irritable. Within the church's walls, many spoke of God's revenge upon Arthur for allowing Camelot's people to worship false gods for so long. But no matter who plotted revenge against who, the situation remained the same.

Sighing, Juliana turned away from her window. The sight was beginning to make her depressed. She needed sunshine. She craved it as a starving man craves food. The sun and its warmth were one of the few things that kept her from going stark-raving mad every day that she lived inside the church. The days of continual darkness were taking their toll upon her. Juliana felt herself growing languid and unmotivated to do anything. She was tempted to lay in her bed, covers pulled over her head, until the sun returned. But she could not do that.

Her cloak lay on the edge of her bed. The piece of drag fabric called to her, imploring her to throw it on and allow it the independence for which it was formed. The call was strong. Juliana resisted at first, but she put up a weak fight and soon relented to the cloak and the freedom which it promised. She threw the cloak on over her shoulders, pulling the hood on over her headdress and tying the strings beneath her chin. With one last glance at her darkened room, Juliana closed the door behind her and sought out the wide open plains of Camelot.

> > > > > 

Galahad tried to rid himself of Zephaniah throughout the week, but her presence was like a splinter beneath the skin: constant and irritating. He felt horrid for leading her on as he had done, but not horrid enough that he would continue to see her despite the fact that he cared nothing for her.

Zephaniah was there when he went to bed at night and when he woke in the morning. She cheered for him while he was in the practice fields, and watched his every movement with adoring eyes. At the tavern she sat beside him, claiming Galahad as hers and warding off the few brazen women who dared to try and take him from her. The only time that she was not with him was when Arthur called a meeting of the knights or sent Galahad on a special errand. The young knight learned to how to love those trivial meetings and those miniscule tasks which Arthur set him to. They offered him a brief reprieve from Zephaniah's presence, a reprieve which he quickly longed for when his tasks were finished.

He stood in the stable, gently brushing down his mare after his midmorning ride. Zephaniah had not seen him return, thankfully, and Galahad wanted to make the most of the few moments that he had to himself. So he brushed his horse slowly, wanting to take all the time he could.

Outside the air was heavy, burdening upon the lungs of any who dared to venture from their walls. A mist hung in the air, making everything damp and unbearable. Galahad's own clothing was wet and clung to his body most unpleasantly. Camelot was devoid of activity. The villagers choosing to remain indoors and escape the horrible weather. An unusual silence hung over the small kingdom, and Galahad felt both unnerved and at ease with the silence.

A rustling by the stable door stilled his hand. His eyes moved to the open door just as a cloaked figure hurried past. Curious, Galahad left his horse in her stall and followed the figure.

> > > > > 

The open space of the hilly plains did nothing to stifle Juliana's restlessness. If anything, it only intensified the feeling. She stood out in the open, head tilted back to gaze up at the heavens, her headdress lying abandoned on the earth at her feet. Her hair hung limp around her face, the dampness of the air settling easily within the long locks, forming tiny droplets which stood out like diamonds upon the fiery hair.

Through her restlessness, a feeling of peace slowly settled upon Juliana. Nothing could do more for her spirit than being outside, alone with God's creation. She breathed in deeply, letting the heavy, rain filled air, weigh down on her lungs. Even with the threat of a storm, Juliana couldn't deny the beauty of the land that surrounded her. If only she had thought to bring her paints with her, she could have captured the fierce beauty of oncoming storm. But she had not brought them with her, and so she was left with nothing more than her mind's eye to help her remember the world at that moment.

"What is a nun doing out of the church all by herself?" The familiar voice sent unwanted tremors down her spine. Juliana need not look to see who stood behind her. She could almost picture his teasing smirk, the slant of his eyes as they laughed at her. It shouldn't have been, but the picture was pleasing to her.

"I am enjoying the small amount of freedom that I can steal." She replied softly, remaining still. If he wished to see her face let him be the one to move for Juliana had no desire to.

"If you must steal your freedom, then why do you continue in the life that you lead?" His words brushed against her ear, startling her. He was so near that she could practically feel his body pressing against hers.

Juliana's senses were running wild. Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest and she was certain that he could hear the rapid beating.

A weight settled on her shoulder. Ever so slightly she turned her head to see his hand lying there. That strong, muscled, calloused, hardworking hand which had fought for the freedom that the people of Camelot now enjoyed. Juliana shook herself from her thoughts. No, she could not be drawn in by him. She would not allow herself to become weak to his tempting.

He moved so that he was beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, his eyes boring into her profile. But she would not look at him. She would not give him that satisfaction. Jaw set, she willed her eyes to remain on the plains ahead of her. But his presence would not be so easily ignored.

"Juliana." Her name whispered from his lips was like releasing the plug in a barrel of wine. Her emotions flooded her. Feelings, foreign to her body, welled in the pit of her stomach. A desire unlike anything she'd ever felt before engulfed her with the ferocity of an ocean gale.

He hooked a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. Juliana tried to resist, but her resolve was gone. The very stubbornness that had ruled her for so many years gave way to his touch like the sand gives way to the sea's tide. She felt herself trembling at his touch and she hated herself for being so weak, so womanly.

Galahad's eyes stared into hers, as if he could read her thoughts and emotions if he just looked long enough. His thumb caressed her bottom lip and Juliana had to close her eyes to the overwhelming flood of emotions that coursed through her veins. He did things to her, things that Juliana wished she could ignore. But to do so would be futile. How could you ignore something so powerful? Especially when you wanted it so badly.

> > > > > 

Galahad could see the desire in her eyes, the want that he was so sure reflected in his own eyes. He hadn't meant for such an encounter to occur when he'd first followed Juliana. But the moment that he saw her, hair loose around her shoulders, he'd lost all reason.

The second his skin connected with hers a shock went through his system. It was as if he finally understood what it was like to fully love a woman. Yes, love. For surely that was what he felt for Juliana. Love in all its unadulterated glory; pure and whole and powerful enough to drive even the strongest man to his knees.

He wanted to kiss her. But something held him back. The fear that settled in her eyes, hidden by the desire and passion that burned there, caused him to still. How could he kiss her, tell her just how deeply he felt for her, when she was like a frightened infant? One small move and she could flee, like the doe when something startles her.

Running a hand through her hair- as he had so longed to do, Galahad tried to calm his beating heart. How could a woman such as she stir such emotion within a knight hardened by years of battle? Her hair was soft against his fingers, silky and smooth. Galahad fought his instinct to crush her against him and struggled to take a slower approach. Juliana would need that. She would not like it if he simply took what he longed for. Of that he was certain.

"What are you doing to me?" He asked softly.

"I could ask the same of you." Her reply was quiet, and Galahad had to strain to hear her.

Her words tugged at him, making his desire for her only burn hotter.

Thunder cracked in the distance and the hills around them grew steadily darker, but the pair noticed not any of these things. Instead, intent upon each other's gaze.

Galahad moved closer to Juliana, fighting to move slowly and not startle her. Their bodies were soon flush against each other. His hand slipped from her hair to the base of her throat, where he could feel her pulse beating rapidly. Juliana's lips were parted in the most alluring way as she breathed heavily, fighting her own desires. Galahad saw his opportunity. She was waiting and willing and the moment couldn't have been more perfect.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, his eyes intent on hers the whole time as he waited for some sign of protest. She gave none. Galahad took that as his sign to continue and he placed his lips against hers.

> > > > > 

I think I'll leave you all right there (laughs evilly) and you'll just have to wait till the next chapter to see what happens next. So, please review and tell me what you thought. We're moving in just a few days, so the next update won't probably be for awhile. I hope you guys can wait that long, if not, too bad. Lol. Anyways, I'll leave off my rambling now so that you all can go and press that pretty little purple button and leave me the reviews that I'm dying to read.

KnightMaiden, TRISTANLOVER, greenDayzIdiot, grullo-cowgirl, and problemgirl088: Thank you all so much for reviewing.


	10. Chapter 10

Okay folks, so my family is finally all moved in to our new house. Things went well and we moved in without too much trouble. It took awhile for us to get our computer set up and get the internet hooked up, but we finally did and now you all can have a new chapter. Yippee. Now I'll stop my babbling and let you all read the chapter since that is the reason you clicked on this story in the first place.

Chapter Ten

The second that Galahad's lips touched hers, Juliana felt the earth shake beneath her feet. Thunder cracked and a streak of lightening lit the sky. And, as if the meeting of their lips had unlocked the clouds, the rain came flooding from the sky.

Juliana's clothing was soon soaked through, but she barely noticed. Her mind was completely focused on Galahad's warm mouth and the feelings that he was invoking within her. It was as if God himself had reached inside her and twisted her insides together. The feelings that coursed through her were strong and powerful and intoxicating to the extreme.

A third crack of thunder could be heard across the plains, and it jolted Juliana back to herself. Quickly, she pulled away from Galahad.

"Oh Lord, forgive me." She whispered, placing a trembling hand to her swollen mouth. Her eyes looked up into Galahad's. He was staring at her as if she were something precious and desirable. But Juliana knew that the look in his eyes was there only because she had given up to him something she had vowed never to give. Her heart.

She had not meant to give her heart to him. She had not meant to give it to any man. But she had. Slowly but surely Galahad had stolen her love like thieves in the night steal horses and cattle from the pastures. He had weaseled his way into her life, had consumed her every waking thought, then he had taken the one thing that Juliana had vowed to give only to God.

Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. Her body was wracked by the tremendous sobs that came from deep within her soul. She had broken her covenant with God. And all for the wanton desires that Satan filled her with. How could she ever again show her face in church? She could not go back to the church and pretend that everything was as it had been when she left. The others would be able to read her sin on her face as surely as they read the words in the Bible. Juliana would be shunned and cast from the only life she'd ever known.

An eternity seemed to pass since her lips had left Galahad's, but in reality it had only been a few seconds. But seconds was all Juliana needed to drive herself crazy with worry and self-loathing.

"Juliana?" Galahad sounded worried as he brushed his hand against her cheek, wiping away the tears and rain. She turned her head quickly from his touch, and stared at the ground. But Galahad would not be deterred. He took her face within his strong hands and forced her to look at him. And what Juliana saw made her heart stop.

He was looking at her in very much the same way that she wished she had the freedom to look upon him. Emotions played across his face: desire, want, need, fear…love. Juliana wished more than anything that she could return all those feelings, but she couldn't. It was forbidden for her to do so.

"No." She shook her head and pulled away. She could not allow her heart to rule her at this moment. "No." She repeated more forcefully and took another step back from Galahad, turning her back to him as she did so. If she was to keep her wits about her, then she dare not be close to him.

"This is wrong." She continued, saying the words more to herself than to Galahad. "It is wrong and I never should have allowed it to happen."

"How can it be wrong to follow the direction of your heart?" Galahad spoke as if he were a world-weary sage; a man with the answers to life's most mystifying questions.

Unbridled anger surged within Juliana. Anger at herself for allowing her actions and anger at Galahad for making her question the beliefs she had once held so dear.

She whirled about to face him, eyes flashing furiously.

"I broke my vows to God, to the Church. You tempted me and I gave in, like one of those harlots that frequents the tavern." Her voice was filled with an uncharacteristic vehemence. "I am not like those women, Galahad. I will not give myself in such a way. And I should not have kissed you."

She shook her head slowly, all fight seeming to have drained from her.

A bolt of lightening lit the sky and ignited sparks on a tree not far in the distance. A loud crack of thunder, like that of many hooves, resounded across the plains, echoing in Juliana's ears. But despite the noise of the raging storm, silence engulfed the pair. They stood, Juliana afraid to meet Galahad's eyes now that her wrath had been vented, in a silence that was nearly deafening.

Then Galahad spoke.

"Why?" His voice echoed more loudly than the thunder ever could have within Juliana's ears. It startled her enough that she looked up to meet his gaze, which now shared the pent up anger that Juliana had, only moments ago, shown.

"Why?" He repeated. "Why should you not have kissed me? It was what we both wanted. I know it was. I felt the way you were trembling. I felt your heart racing against my own. Why should it not have happened?"

He took a step towards her, and then another and another until, finally, he was face to face with her.

Juliana stared up at him in frightened awe. For seeing him with the rain beaded in his beard and on his eyelashes, and the fire sparking in his eyes, he had never looked more powerful and handsome. Juliana's breath caught in her throat and she found it difficult to breathe with him so near.

"See," he said, as if he could read her thoughts, "even now you feel the connection that there is between us."

He held her shoulders firmly, as if to shake her. But instead, he pulled her closer to him until there was naught but a bit of air between their bodies.

"You cannot tell me that you feel nothing for me." He continued, his voice now barely above a whisper. His head lowered to hers and he once again placed his mouth against her own.

He kissed her. Kissed her with all the passion and want and love that he held for her. Juliana did not return the kiss at first. She resisted, pushing against Galahad as if to make him release her. But he held her tightly, not allowing her to pull away. Finally, she relented and gave in to the kiss.

> > > > >

As she crept back to her room later that evening, Juliana felt a chill through her bones. It was not from the cold nor being in the rain for so long, but from inside her very soul.

She had allowed her passions to rule her. She had given in to the feelings of pleasure and excitement that Galahad's attentions had stirred within her. And for that, Juliana was very sorry.

Everything had felt so new and exciting as it had happened, but once she and Galahad had departed company, the enormity of what she had just done filled Juliana and weighed heavily upon her shoulders.

The apartments above the church were silent and dark as Juliana opened her door and slunk inside her own room. Quietly, she lit her one candle and carried it over to her wash basin. She picked up her comb, the one earthly possession she could truly call hers, and proceeded to work the knots out of her hair. Satisfied that all the knots were sufficiently combed out, Juliana pulled her black dress over her head and folded it neatly. The cold of her stone room penetrated her light shift and Juliana shivered. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she quickly blew out the candle and climbed into her bed andburrowed beneath her heavy quilt.

> > > > >

A semi short chapter, but the next one should be longer…I hope. Lol. Anyways, please review and tell me what y'all thought.

quizzabella: Thank you so much for the compliment.

Wander of the Roads: I just love your long reviews :). Your insight and nit-picking is always a welcome thing to read. And I totally know what you mean about romantic rainy scenes. I just _love_ when people kiss in the rain. Lol. I hope you liked this chapter and I can't wait to read what you have to say.

Evenstar-mor2004: Don't we all. Lol.

KingArthurgirl, TRISTANLOVER, greenDayzIdiot, Makayla, the sarahnater, I'm Seeing Stars, kim, grullo-cowgirl, problemgirl088, June Birdie, andMedievalWarriorPrincess: Thank you all so much for reviewing this chapter. I love to read what you guys have to say and I can't wait for your thoughts on this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Rain still streamed down from the heavens. The dam had been broken and now the rain, though it had slacked off to a drizzle, still persisted.

Galahad sat at the famed Round Table, listening to Arthur, Gawain, and Bors discuss the upcoming harvest, which would no doubt be a good one now that the rain had come. He could barely contain the sigh that threatened to spill from his lips.

The happiness and elation that Galahad had felt at kissing Juliana was a short lived feeling. After they had parted company at the stable, Galahad had gone to his room to change into dry clothes, and had found Zephaniah waiting for him.

_She was dressed in nothing but a lace trimmed nightdress, which barley covered her breasts. Her hair was undone and hanging over her shoulder in a most innocent and alluring way. Candles were lit throughout the room, casting a hazy glow over her. A slow and seductive grin came over her face as she drew close to Galahad. _

"Let's get you out of those wet clothes." She purred, tracing her hand seductively down his chest.

Galahad pushed her hand away, not at all in the mood for her brazen advances. His blood was still hot from his encounter with Juliana, but Galahad had no desire to quell his passions with Zephaniah. To do so, so soon after he had spent thirty glorious minutes with Juliana in his arms, would be a betrayal of his own heart.

Zephaniah pouted. While many men may have been enticed by such a look, Galahad was only disgusted by the fact that he had allowed her to blind him and seduce him.

Worried over the fact that Galahad did not give in to her charms, Zephaniah asked him what was wrong, and if she had offended him.

"Your very presence offends me." He wanted to say, but held his tongue, asking her to leave his room instead. Zephaniah did so, but not without one last attempt to change Galahad's mind.

"Don't you think so, Galahad?" Gawain's voice brought the young knight back to the present.

"Excuse me?" He said. Arthur grinned and Bors laughed heartily at Galahad's confused expression.

"Don't you think that the festival will go well this year?" Gawain repeated the question.

The harvest festival, held each year on the night after the harvest had been brought in, was nothing more than a time for people to enjoy the more sinful- as the nuns would surely claim it to be- aspects of life. The night would abound with drunkenness and couples enjoying the physical aspects of their relationships. It was a night for all to celebrate the passed summer and the coming winter.

"Are you sure we should still hold the festival this year, Arthur?" Galahad asked his king and friend. In the past, Arthur had not resisted the festival as it was a custom of Britain's.

"What do you mean, Galahad?" Arthur asked, curious as to why, for the first time ever, Galahad was questioning a custom of his own people.

"Surely it would offend the holy people." He said. "And you are constantly telling us that we must not give them anything to write to Rome about."

"The festival is a custom older than any of those Roman dogs." Bors spat. "Why should we change our lives so as not to offend them?"

"I just don't think it wise." Galahad said with a shake of his head. As he looked around the table at his friends, he could see the knowing look within Gawain's eyes.

> > > > >

Juliana knelt in front of the alter, head bowed, eyes closed, and hands clasped in front of her. She prayed silently, asking God to forgive her the sins she had committed and to erase the lustful thoughts from her mind.

It had been only a day since she and Galahad had kissed, and it was the only thing that filled Juliana's mind. Her thoughts were consumed with replaying the kiss over and over again in her mind. She could still feel Galahad's body pressed against hers and her lips still burned from the passion of his kiss.

The doors to the sanctuary opened behind her, but Juliana did not turn to see who had entered. Surely it was just another nun coming to pray, or even one of the monks who- though they often kept to themselves- sought to pray with the rest of God's children.

Juliana continued in her pray, making sure that she thanked God for His many blessings and for the life of His son: Jesus.

"Amen." She whispered solemnly before crossing herself and standing. She turned to go back to her room, where she would spend a few hours reading the Bible. But as she turned, a man stood in her way.

He was tall and broad shouldered. His hair was blonde and swept down past his shoulders in dirty locks and he was in desperate need of a shave as his beard was unruly. But it wasn't his appearance that startled her, it was the way that he was staring at her. His eyes, a light, almost icy blue, were boring into her as if to see what was in her very soul.

Juliana's back straightened and she returned his steady gaze with one of her own. This man was intimidating, but she would not allow him to see that she was frightened by him.

"May I help you, sir?" She asked, bowing her head subserviently, but not moving her eyes from his face.

A grin could been seen behind his beard, and Juliana recognized him as one of Arthur's knights. The very one that had caught her watching them train.

"Yes." He said, taking a step towards her. Juliana quickly stood upright once more.

"I was wondering exactly what this god of yours is all about." He looked around the sanctuary curiously, his eyes lingering on the wooden cross which hung above the alter.

A glimmer of hope sparked inside Juliana's heart. Perhaps there was hope for these people. Perhaps one man was all it took for them to slowly come to Christ. She could not keep the smile from her face as the man continued to move closer, his eyes still moving about the room.

He stopped right in front of her and Juliana was left staring right at his chest. She looked up, only to find him gazing down at her with a fire behind his icy blue eyes. Fear jumped into her throat, lodging there as she realized that he had not come to seek Christ.

> > > > >

Dun dun dun. Lol. Ooh, I wonder what's gonna happen. Hehe. I'm so evil. I guess y'all will just have to wait to see what happens to Juliana.

I know this chapter was kinda short, but I hope you guys liked it. The next one will be longer, I _promise_.

Alright, so I know that a lot of you are probably kinda mad at me for the way that I'm portraying Gawain. I know that he seems a little…evil. But he's not. That is not at all how I'm trying to portray him. The only reason he comes off that way is because when he seems evil it's coming from the way that Juliana is seeing him. Does that make sense?

Anyways, I hope you guys will review and tell me what you thought.

**Wander of the Roads**: I hope this chapter had enough of Galahad in it. I am planning on making this next chapter more about him, but I thought that what I wrote this chapter should suffice for right now. Okay, so things between Juliana and Galahad are going to take some turns. In this chapter I hinted at a few things- their real subtle so if you can't find them don't worry- that are to come. Basically, Juliana's gonna get a lot less nun like and some things are going to be thrown into her path that she'll need to deal with. I was so happy to see that you reviewed. I just love reading everything you have to say, even the nit-picking. Lol. I hope you'll keep reading this as it's about to get more interesting.

**KnightMaiden**: You'll just have to keep reading to find out what Juliana does. All I'm gonna say is that she's gonna start becoming her own person real soon.

**TRISTANLOVER**, **grullo-cowgirl**, **MedievalWarriorPrincess**, **Makayla**, **Evanstar-mor2004**, **greenDayzIdiot**, **KingArthurgirl**, **Lady Marek**, and **problemgirl088**: I'm so glad you guys like this story. Thank you all so much for reviewing, you guys really make my day. Thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Galahad paced in front of the church's doors. To go in or not to go in, that was the question. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and sighed.

The whole day he had been unable to concentrate on anything but Juliana. And he desperately needed to talk to her. He had to know whether or not she'd been as effected by their kiss, or rather kisses, as he had been.

The heavy wooden doors of the church loomed over him and Galahad quit his pacing as his eyes rested on the plain, dark wood. What was he thinking, he couldn't face Juliana. No doubt she regretted her actions and, even at that moment, was probably praying to her god for forgiveness.

So what was Galahad doing going to talk to her about how much he had grown to care for her? Juliana would not, and could not, reciprocate his feelings. So what was the point?

With a sigh, he turned from the church.

_No_, he thought, turning back to face the doors, _why should I keep my feelings hidden? Why shouldn't I tell her? I love her. Surely that must mean something._

At the word love, Galahad paused. True he had known himself to be in love with Juliana, but to go in there and tell her that was different from admitting it to himself. She would reject him, of that Galahad was certain.

_Just do it_. The little voice inside his head spoke up. _Just go in there and do it. _

Closing his eyes, Galahad sought insight to his quandary. And then, propelled by a burst of courage, he pushed open the doors and walked inside.

> > > > > 

Gawain didn't know how he came to be at the church, or why he had even sought out the young nun that Galahad seemed to be so entranced with. All he knew, was that he had been driven, as if by an invisible hand, to the very spot that he now stood.

In front of him, the nun was looking at him through frightened eyes. Gawain surveyed her body openly, not used to having to hide his appraisal of women. From the small bit of her that he could see, he could understand why his friend was so captivated by this woman.

Gawain had seen her before; he remembered her eyes as the ones that had peered at him over the wall and he remembered her from that day when Arthur had sent him to fetch Galahad from the plains. That time she had had her hair released and Gawain could remember the very thoughts that he had had of her. Thoughts that had made his blood boil with lust and desire.

He raised a hand to brush against her pale skin, and he couldn't help but think that that skin would be as soft as a new born babe's. She flinched as his work-roughened fingers moved against her skin, but she made no attempt to move away from him. Gawain admired that. She was frightened, and yet she stood her ground. She showed the one quality that every knight should possess.

A hot tear touched his finger and it was only at that moment that he realized she'd been crying. Gawain wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he would not harm her. But, at that moment, he wasn't sure what orders his body would take: to leave the girl alone, or take her in all her untainted beauty.

To do that, to have her in such a way that no man was allowed, right there in the center of the church would have been a great blow to the Christians. Gawain knew that with one wicked action, he could tear this one woman's faith to shreds and, in the process, rid Camelot of at least one Christian.

But just as that one evil part of his mind was winning out, the doors behind him opened and Gawain felt himself being pulled roughly away from the young woman. He was turned around and came face to face with the furious expression that Galahad wore.

> > > > > 

A coldness filled Juliana as the knight's fingers brushed against her face. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him and his impending actions, but her feet felt as if they had been nailed to the floor. Her body was paralyzed, unable to move in any direction much less move in order to escape.

Tears, hot with fear slipped down her face. One by one they slid, down her cheeks and her chin and then falling onto the cold stone floor. A shiver ran through her body, and Juliana felt herself begin to tremble as she continued to stare into the icy depths of the knight's eyes. She could not tear her gaze from his, no matter how hard she tried. He stared back at her, his own gaze reading the fear within her.

It felt like an eternity that they stood there, his hand on her face and terror running through her veins. But they stood only a few seconds before he was yanked away from her by an unseen savior.

He turned, his body continuing to block that of her rescuer's. Juliana wanted to see who had saved her, but her feet sprang to life at that moment and quickly carried her from the sanctuary and up the stairs to her apartment.

> > > > > 

"Galahad-"

He didn't wait for Gawain to finish his sentence before punching his once closest friend in the jaw. Gawain's head snapped to the side and his hand came up slowly to rub the aching joint.

Galahad was fuming with anger. What right did Gawain have to touch Juliana?

The moment that he walked inside the church, Galahad could sense that something was not right. He had seen Gawain at the altar, a nun standing in front of him. Her face had been hidden by his friend's broad shoulders, but Galahad knew that it was her.

Gawain looked at him, his own eyes filled with the same anger that Galahad felt surging through his veins. His blood was boiling and his fingers itched to wrap around the hilt of his sword. He was ready to fight.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Gawain seethed, spitting out bits of blood that would forever stain the stone floor.

Galahad did not reply with words, but with another punch thrown. Gawain grabbed the fist and twisted Galahad's arm behind his back. The younger knight winced as his muscles protested the action. He never had been able to best Gawain in hand-to-hand combat.

"You need to cool off _friend_." The last word was spoken with an edge. Galahad struggled against Gawain's hold, but to no avail.

The older knight forced him outside and Galahad had just enough time to take a deep breath before Gawain forced his head into the nearest rain bucket.

His lungs felt tight as he struggled further against the hand that kept him beneath the water. Just when he thought he was about to pass out, Gawain pulled him up.

Sputtering, Galahad pulled free of Gawain's hold and pushed his friend back from him.

"You had no right." He huffed, trying to regain his breath.

"No right to what, to dunk you in the water, or to visit your little friend?" Gawain asked, clearly annoyed at the quick tempered actions of the young knight.

Anger renewed at the thought of Gawain touching Juliana, Galahad glared at the other man.

"Both." He seethed. His anger was further incensed by the laugh that erupted from Gawain's lips. He launched himself at the knight, wrapping his arms around his waist and tackling him to the ground.

> > > > > 

Arthur surveyed his two knights as they stood before him with cuts and bruises on their faces and hands. How long they had been fighting in front of the church, Arthur did not know. What he did know, was that the argument must have been about something of great importance for these two close friends to come to blows.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence that had settled over the three of them, "what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

Arthur couldn't help the grin that came over his face as he spoke. This was just too comical. To think, two grown men acting like little boys in a scuffle.

They remained stubbornly silent. Arthur sighed. If this was what fatherhood was going to be like, than he'd rather be childless.

> > > > > 

Three months passed. Three months in which Gawain and Galahad spoke to each other only when need be. Three months in which Juliana remained cloistered inside the church, not leaving even to paint.

The harvest festival was swiftly approaching. The full moon would be in two days and then it would be time to light the bonfires and give thanks to the gods which the villagers worshiped.

During those days before the festival, Mother Superior and the nuns were hard at work trying to convert people, to make them see the sin that rested within the ploy of the festival. The only nun who did not try and speak to the villagers, was Juliana. She dared not go out into the streets for fear of running into Galahad or the knight that had cornered her inside the church.

Whilst the nuns were at work, so, too, were the knights. They helped to bring in the wheat and the hay, and to cut it and dry it to store for that winter. Galahad remained a safe distance from Gawain, unsure of whether or not he'd be able to contain his temper should the other knight be within close distance of him. So the two worked in separate fields, each doing more than their fair share of work so that they could tumble into bed at night, too tired to do anything but sleep.

And so, when the moon was full and three spirits were at discontent, the harvest festival arrived.

> > > > > 

Outside of her window, Juliana could see the bonfires that littered the now empty fields. She could see the shadows of the people that ringed the fires as they danced and drank and gave in to the desires of the flesh.

She sighed. Just once, Juliana wished that she could have been given a different life to lead. A life where she could be free of restrictions and live the way that she wished. But she couldn't. Her mother had left her on the church's steps for a reason, and Juliana wanted to fulfill the desires of a woman she had never known, yet longed to be close to.

A cool breeze filtered through the window, brushing against Juliana's face and making her hair graze her cheeks. The intoxicating scent of burning wood and leaves assailed her nose and Juliana breathed in deeply. She loved that smell.

Laughter carried on the breeze, traveling the far way from the fields to the town. Juliana sighed once more.

It was late, everyone else was no doubt asleep, and Juliana felt the stirring of rebellion inside of her. It always happened like this. Late at night, when no one else was around, she would get the urge to walk through the dark and drink in the wickedness her actions loaned to the beautiful night.

_I can't do it_, she protested the feeling, _not tonight. I could run into a drunk man or-_ but she did not finish her thought that she might run into Galahad or into the other knight. And, if either were drunk…Juliana shivered. She did not want to think of what might happen.

But still, the feeling was there and it was growing stronger. Soon she would be unable to resist its tug and she would give in and let it over take her.

_So why delay the inevitable?_ She thought, grabbing her cloak and leaving her apartment.

> > > > > 

Ooh, what's gonna happen now? Lol. Juliana might just get herself into some trouble out there at night, with all those people celebrating. Hmm, wonder who she might run into. Oh gosh am I evil or what? Hehe. Please review and tell me what you thought.

PS. Next chapter should be pretty long since I have a lot that I want to cover, but I make no promises.

Wander of the Roads: Thanks for the nit-picking. You're really helping me see where some of my errors are in writing.

KnightMaiden: Sorry to disappoint you, but this is a Galahad story. Gawain's just a nice bit of drama.

KingArthurgirl: Yeah, sorry 'bout making Gawain seem evil. He's really not, that's just kinda how he comes off to Juliana. I'll try and make his softer side come out more in the upcoming chapters.

CHELSEA, TRISTANLOVER, greenDayzIdiot, Evenstar-mor2004, Lady Marek, homeric, the sarahnater, grullo-cowgirl, problemgirl088, and Winged Seraph: Thank you all so much for reviewing. You guys really help me keep motivated in writing this story. Thank you for all your insight and encouragement.


	13. Chapter 13

I forgot to say this in the last chapter, so I'll do it now. I want to give a big "holla" to all y'all who have reviewed so far. One hundred reviews baby! You guys rock!

Chapter Thirteen

Guinevere stood close to the fire, her face burning from the heat. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, relishing the acrid scent of smoke. She raised one of her slim hands to her stomach, a secretive smile spreading across her lips. Arthur didn't know yet, but, in time, Guinevere would tell him. And he would be so happy. Her smile broadened at the thought of being able to give the man that she loved with all her heart a child.

Her grin turned impish as she thought of the actions that had brought about her pregnancy.

Arthur's ferocious strength on the battle field carried easily to the bed. He could switch from a gentle lover to a powerful man driven by his passions in an instant. Their bed was never dull, nor silent most nights.

As if her thoughts had called him to her, Arthur's arms wrapped around his wife's small waist and he pulled her against his chest.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the firelight?" He whispered in her ear. Guinevere tilted her head so that she could look up at him.

"No, my lord, I don't believe you have." She placed a soft kiss on his jaw, a kiss that traveled down Arthur's neck to the base of his throat. Arthur moaned softly, prompting Guinevere to continue in her slow and seductive torture.

She sucked on his skin, tasting him with her tongue and arousing both their passions. Arthur's arms tightened around Guinevere and he drew her tight against him, leaving not even a breath of air between their bodies.

He ducked his head and caught her lips in a feverish kiss. A kiss which Guinevere gladly returned.

> > > > > 

Sparks flew out from the fire and caught on the breeze which blew them up towards the heavens. Around the fire sat people engaged in drinking and merrymaking.

From his seat on one of the logs brought in to serve as benches, Galahad could see Bors and his mistress locked in an embrace while their children played a game of tag nearby. He could hear the bawdy laughter of those who were already drunk, even though the fire had only been lit not even an hour ago.

He sighed and took a long drag of his ale. Tonight was supposed to be a night of fun and laughter. But Galahad did not feel much like celebrating.

It had been three months since he last saw Juliana, and every bone in his body ached to see her again, to touch her skin and to kiss her mouth.

Zephaniah flounced down on the log next to him, her lips immediately moving to his neck, where she kissed him slowly and seductively. Galahad ignored her. Her touch did nothing for him other than make him feel ill.

Her hand traced the muscles beneath his tunic and her lips moved to his. Galahad allowed her to kiss him. He was too tired to push her away.

"What say we find somewhere dark." She whispered in his ear, her voice husky with want and need.

Galahad shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Now don't be like that, Galahad." She purred. "Tonight is a night for fun. Don't you want to have fun with me?" Her lips grazed his ear and her hands moved lower down his body. He shook her off and stood.

"I said, not tonight." He growled, clutching his ale tankard with a trembling fist. Zephaniah's eyes darkened and the fire reflected within their depths.

"Fine." She huffed. "I can find another man. A man that's _better_ than you."

"Go then," he snapped, "because I don't want you."

The anger fled her eyes for a second, replaced by hurt and sadness. But then it returned swiftly and she marched past him in a huff.

Furious at nothing and everything, Galahad threw down his tankard and stalked off into the dark fields. He needed to get away from the crowd, to find space and air so that he could clear his head.

> > > > > 

The silence of the night dissipated the closer that Juliana got to the festival. She could hear the drunken laughter and the cries of pleasure that came out of the shadows. She tread warily, careful not to stumble upon a couple in the midst of their passion.

The fire burned bright in her eyes as she neared it. She remained just out of its light, careful not to let anyone see her.

Figures danced around the flames; women, their brows crowned by rings of flowers, flitted about the fire like fairies. Fairies that enticed men to evil and lustful thoughts and actions. Their smiles and laughter were contagious to all- even Juliana felt herself relaxing as she became entranced by their dizzying dance.

She watched, transfixed as one by one the women left the ring of dancers to join a man and enjoy the pleasures that their gods gave them. Couples left the firelight, in search of a more private area, to hoots of encouragement from their friends.

Children ran about the fire, playing tag and laughing happily as they wove in and out of the crowd. Juliana blushed at the thought of what these children would see before the night was out.

Time passed and Juliana knew not how long she had been there, crouched behind a log watching the festival. All she knew, was that her legs were beginning to ache and her eyes were starting to droop. But, despite her body and mind's call for sleep, Juliana found herself unable to move from that spot.

From her vantage point, Juliana could see a couple arguing. Their faces were in shadow, but she could clearly see that the woman was pressing herself upon the man while he resisted her actions. The woman stormed away. The man stood in place for a moment before walking in the opposite direction. He staggered slightly as he walked, obviously drunk. It wasn't until too late that Juliana realized he was walking towards her. She would have fled, but he was too close to the log now for her to get safely away. Even drunk, Juliana knew this man could easily over power her should he wish to. So, she remained low to the ground, praying fervently that God would keep her hidden.

> > > > > 

Galahad must have been more drunk than he thought. What other way could he explain the fact that he just saw Juliana's red hair poking overtop a log. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, but when he looked again the hair- so red that it looked like a flame on top the wood- was there.

Slowly, Galahad approached and looked over top of the log. And there was Juliana, head bowed and eyes screwed shut as her mouth formed silent words.

"Juliana." Her name left his lips before he could stop himself from speaking. Juliana's eyes flew open and widened as they took in his face. Her lips parted and her breathing came in quick, harsh gasps.

"Please," her voice was a frightened whisper, "please don't come any closer."

But Galahad's body would not obey her words. He went around to the other side of the log and stooped down so that he was face to face with Juliana. In the dark he could see her chin quiver as her eyes met his.

Galahad wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he would not harm her. He wanted to confess his feelings to her. But the words would not come to his lips. They became lodged between his brain and his mouth and would not be spoken. So he searched his mind for something, anything, to say.

"You have been avoiding me." He mentally smacked himself. Here he was trying to tell her the truth of his feelings and instead he says something stupid.

"I…," obviously she knew not how to respond. "I've been kept busy." She muttered, her eyes lowering to the ground.

Galahad placed a hand beneath her chin and forced her eyes back up to his. He could not bare for her to look away. He needed to look into her eyes, to see their beauty.

"We have not been able to talk-"

"We have nothing to talk about." Juliana interrupted him, shaking her head in denial. She clearly didn't want to speak about that day, the day that Galahad could not rid his mind of.

"Yes," he replied firmly yet gently, "we do."

With the firelight framing her face, Galahad found himself being drawn in to Juliana's beauty. His mind was slipping away from him and he was, instead, driven by the desire he had felt for her since he'd first laid eyes on her innocent face.

His hand traveled from her chin, gently caressing her neck and the base of her throat. Her skin was like silk beneath this roughened fingers. His fingers untied the bow that kept her cloak covering her and the heavy material fell away from her shoulders easily. It was then that he noticed she wore only her underclothes- indeed it was the very same shift that she had been wearing when first they'd met all those nights ago in the garden. Galahad felt his pulse quicken as he took in her pale shoulders and arms. His eyes lingered too long on the place where the lace of her shift met the top of her breasts. Beneath his hand, Juliana's skin grew hot and her face turned red under his appraisal.

Galahad could not deny any longer the want that he had for Juliana. No, it was not want, but _need_. Need for her body against his. Need for her to love him and to want to be with him. Need to be around her.

He moved so that his knees were resting on the damp earth. His other hand moved to cup Juliana's cheek. She was so soft, so smooth. Her eyes widened as he moved closer, ducking his head so that his lips could brush against hers. He didn't kiss her, but only allowed their lips to touch for the briefest of seconds. He wanted to tease her, to make her feel the same need that he had. Galahad wanted her to be the one to kiss him. It was the only way that he could know how she truly felt about him, for the words, he knew, would never leave her mouth.

> > > > > 

Juliana's pulse was racing as Galahad's lips moved to her jaw. His lips brushed against her skin, never fully touching, but simply grazing her heated skin in a way that was sure to drive her mad. A tingling sensation filled the pit of her stomach and Juliana knew that she would soon lose control, just as she had the last time that Galahad had kissed her.

He kissed her chin and her nose, then moved down her neck; his kisses heating her skin until Juliana felt almost feverish. His lips brushed her shoulders, and he sucked on the skin before pulling away and moving to her throat.

Juliana's head was tilted back, leaving her ivory skin exposed to Galahad's mouth. Her lips were parted and she breathed harshly, fighting for air as the stars above her danced. She had never known feelings like this. Feelings that could drive her to forget her vows- for she _had_ forgotten that she was a nun- and make her forget that she had made a promise to remain chaste. At that moment, all she could think about was the feel of his lips on her skin and how she wanted more.

The kisses moved back to her jaw, but Juliana did not want them there. If she was to get what she wanted, then she knew she would have to take the lead. Quickly, she took Galahad's face in her hands and drew his mouth to her own. There, their lips and tongues met. Juliana felt like she was starving and the only thing that could fulfill her hunger was Galahad's kiss. And so she pulled him close to her, until their bodies were pressed flush against each other and there was no space between them. Her fingers wrapped around his dark curls, making sure that his lips were pressed as tightly against hers as they could be. Galahad's own hands tangled within Juliana's hair before moving down to explore her body.

A gasp escaped her lips as Galahad's hand moved over the top of her chest and then moved to cup her breast. She moaned into his kiss and arched her back, wanting more of his touch. Galahad delightfully obliged.

His lips left hers, causing Juliana to moan in protest, but her moans were quickly replaced by gasps of pleasure as he sucked on the delicate skin at the base of her throat.

Juliana was faintly aware of Galahad pushing the strap of her shift off her shoulder. Her back made contact with the cool ground and she felt Galahad's weight rest easily on top of her.

Unaware of her own actions, but fully aware that she needed more contact with his body, Juliana slid her hands down Galahad's back and pressed herself up against him. She felt his arousal press into her thigh, but she was too overcome by her own lust to be embarrassed.

Galahad stopped his kisses and peered down at Juliana. She could see the storm of emotions that played across his handsome face and felt her heart go out to him. She reached up with a trembling hand and gently caressed his cheek. Galahad's eyes closed as he let himself cherish her touch. When his eyes again opened the love that showed within their depths robbed Juliana of her very breath.

"I love you." Galahad whispered.

Juliana stared at him, wide-eyed. How did she respond to that? How did she know that he even meant it and it wasn't just the alcohol and spirit of the harvest festival talking?

Alcohol? Festival? All of a sudden Juliana's mind came back to her. She pushed him off of her roughly. Galahad fell on his butt and stared at Juliana, confused, as she scurried away from him.

"Juliana?" He righted himself and reached out to touch her.

"No!" She cried, turning away from him. "Don't touch me!"

A chill breeze swept over her, causing her to shiver. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Juliana realized that she was in nothing but her underclothes and that her cloak had been stripped off of her. Blushing furiously, she reached for her cloak, which sat beside Galahad. He grabbed her wrist just as her own fingers wrapped around the rough fabric.

"Please," he said, "don't go." Galahad didn't care if he was begging. His knightly pride and honor had been swept out the door the moment that Juliana walked into his life.

"My lord, I beg you release me." Juliana's tone was stiff and formal. Galahad released her more out of surprise than obedience. Juliana quickly drew her cloak to her and threw it over her shoulders.

"Don't leave." Galahad said as she stood and began to walk away from him. "Please, Juliana, I love you."

He saw her back stiffen at the words. She turned her head so that she could look at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I assure you, my lord, the only love that I know, or that I wish for, is that of God." With those cold words of dismissal, Juliana fled into the dark.

> > > > > 

Not until she was safely tucked inside her bed did Juliana allow the tears of guilt and self-loathing to come. They fell down her cheeks in a hot wave that continued for hours into the night. She cried until there was not a drop of water left inside her body. Even once she had fallen asleep, her body continued to be racked by dry, heavy sobs.

The morning light that invaded her tremulous sleep felt cold upon Juliana's face. She stirred, but remained under the covers. No one would drag her from bed this day. The guilt that rode upon her shoulders was too heavy for her slim figure to bear. She had not the strength to move from her safe haven beneath the covers of her bed.

A hollow knock sounded on the door to her room. Juliana made no move to get up, but simply buried her head beneath her pillow.

"Juliana?" It was Sister Helen. "Juliana, Mother Superior is looking for you. Are you alright, Juliana?" She knocked again. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, I'm here." Juliana replied weakly. Her throat burned as she spoke.

"Are you ill?" Sister Helen asked through the door, clearly concerned.

Juliana closed her eyes and draped an arm across her forehead.

"Yes." She replied. "Please, just let me rest."

There was no answer, only the shuffling of feet leaving the door.

Sighing, Juliana turned onto her side so that she faced the wooden wall. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears left inside of her.

Hours passed. Midday had come and gone and still Juliana remained abed. Mother Superior had visited her, but Juliana had feigned sleep. Her guilt was too great to face the woman who had so cared for her. Sister Ruth, a nun who knew much of herbs and healing, was sent into Juliana's room, where she forced a vile drink down the depressed girl's throat. But no others came to see Juliana, a thing that she was grateful for.

Not until nearly dusk did Juliana finally emerge from her bed. Drunkenly she stumbled towards the washbasin, where she splashed cold water onto her face and neck. But still, her skin felt hot to the touch; and the heat was not from fever. Suppressing tears that were not there, Juliana stared down at her reflection in the water and gasped. For there, on her collarbone, stood a dark mark. A mark that, should any of the nuns see it, would mark Juliana as a harlotest sinner.

> > > > > 

Hehe, Juliana's got a hicky. Lol. I promised y'all a nice long chapter, and so there ya have it.

This chapter was kinda prompted by a book I'm reading right now - Isolde: Queen of the Western Isle (which I strongly recommend to any Tristan fans since the book is kinda about him. But I warn you, the character in the book is nothing like in the movie). And the book mentions Beltain and all that other stuff that happens in the legend of King Arthur. And I guess it just kinda made me imagine what could happen and…I'm rambling. Okay, I'm gonna stop now.

Anyways, I know you're probably wondering why I suddenly put in a Guinevere POV. Well, she's going to play a role in this story later on, a very important role.

Okay, so please review and tell me what you thought.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter: _KnightMaiden, bloodredcherry, Makayla, homeric, Wander of the Roads, DirrtyXtina87, grullo-cowgirl, Evenstar-mor2004, Priestess of the Myrmidon, MedievalWarriorPrincess, greenDayzIdiot, _and _problemgirl088_. (Doesn't it just such that I can't leave you guys individual comments anymore?)

I am looking into possibly getting a beta reader. So, if anyone is interested, please email me. Thanks.

Oh yeah, I looked up what a nun's headdress is called, and it's a wimple. That's such a funny word, isn't it?

Now, on with the chapter.

Chapter Fourteen

A light frost lay over the barren fields. Now that the harvest was over, winter was making its coming presence known. The air was chilled, and all the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for that first snow to blanket the earth.

Juliana sat at her window, staring out at the village below. People bustled about, returning to their daily chores after sleeping off their drunkenness the day before. It was as if the harvest festival had never happened. Juliana only wished that she could so easily forget all that had transpired only two nights before. But the feel of Galahad's lips against her skin would not be erased from her memory.

Unaware of her actions, Juliana lifted a hand to her collarbone and her fingers traced the mark that was hidden there beneath her habit. She could still feel his hands gliding over her body, the touch of his lips burning her skin, and the look in his eyes as he had stared down at her. The words he had spoken still rang in her head.

_I love you_.

Surely he had been mistaken. He could not love her. What he felt was only the lust of the moment. But Juliana's mind would not let her forget the look in Galahad's eyes. Those eyes, so beautiful and dark, had added truth to his words.

Juliana bit her trembling lip. Her heart ached and she wished that she could die. The weight of her secret, her sin, lay heavily on her shoulders. And it was all that Juliana could do to bear that weight. Not for the first time did she wish that she had not made her vows. For then she would be free to explore the feelings that were growing within her. And she was feeling something, something that she'd never felt before. The mere thought of Galahad caused her pulse to race and her body to ache for his touch.

_Is he feeling the same?_ She wondered. _Are his thoughts as haunted as my own?_

She turned away from the window, unable to gaze any longer upon the harsh beauty of Camelot's land.

Juliana stood, straightening her habit, and walked towards the door of her apartment. Prayer was needed to lessen the burden she carried. Or perhaps Father Gannis would hear her confession. Either way, Juliana needed someway to relieve her conscience.

> > > > >

Placing a hand over her stomach, Guinevere tried to keep the nausea she was feeling at bay. The breakfast that she had forced down that morning was now threatening to resurface in a most unpleasant way.

The same sickness had plagued her since the day that she had noticed her moon-time had not come nearly six weeks ago. And since that day she had not gone one second without feeling the nausea or some other form of pain in her body.

Another heavy wave passed over her and she bit her lip to keep back a groan. Arthur heard her, though, and immediately his attention shifted towards her. Guinevere forced a smile to assure Arthur she was alright. He returned the smile lovingly before focusing his attention on the meeting of his knights.

Guinevere sat back in her chair and listened to the conversation going on around her at the Round Table. But she found it insanely difficult to focus on what they were saying.

_It doesn't matter_, she thought, _Arthur will not doubt talk about this with me later._

She clutched at her stomach once more. Yes, bacon and ham, eggs, bread, and mulled wine had not been a good breakfast idea.

With a polite and apologetic smile, Guinevere excused herself from the room. The knights bade her good-day as she walked out. As the heavy wood door slammed shut behind her, Guinevere took off for the nearest latrine in which to dump the contents of her meal.

Once she had emptied her stomach of all its contents, Guinevere ran a shaky, sweat covered hand across her equally sweat drenched face. If only she had known that being pregnant would be so…_gross. _

_But if I had known I would never have entered Arthur's bed in the first place._

Guinevere couldn't help the weak smile that captured her lips. Here she was a warrior and queen and she was afraid of being a little ill. She had fought in blood filled battles for gods sake, why should she be afraid of a little sickness?

_Perhaps it is because of whose child I carry. After all, our child will take Arthur's place on the throne once Arthur passes to the underworld._

But Guinevere did not want to think of Arthur's death, no matter how far in the future it was, at that moment. No, she needed to focus on the life that was growing inside of her and how to keep the little unborn child healthy until it was time for his birth.

She placed a hand lovingly on her stomach. Arthur's child. No thought could have made her more happy than that of whose child she was carrying.

_Just imagine how happy he'll be when I tell him._

> > > > >

Galahad found it increasingly difficult to focus on what Arthur and the other knights were talking about. His mind would not stay focused on the conversation. But, instead, drifted off to thoughts in faraway places. The most dominate thought: _was that night truly real, or had it been just a dream?_

A part of him wanted it to be just a dream. He wanted the part where Juliana had fled, her cold words still ringing in the air, to be only a figment of his drunken imagination. But then, the part where he had held her and kissed her and touched her; that part he wanted to be true.

Her cold dismissal sprung, unbidden, into his mind.

_I assure you, my lord, the only love that I know, or that I wish for, is that of God_.

Surely she didn't mean that. Juliana had to crave a love that was more than just heavenly. Didn't she care for the love of a man who could actually touch her and kiss her and show her just how much he loved her?

Galahad felt his anger stir. But it was not anger towards Juliana, but towards himself. How could he have let himself care? Galahad knew that Juliana would never return his sentiments, so why, then, did he continue to pursue her? He had told her he loved her, and yet she had turned her back on him.

_You are a fool_, Galahad berated himself. _A fool to think that she would ever turn from her damn god. But you can still save yourself hurt if you just forget her._

Zephaniah's image forced its way into his inner struggle. She had offered him everything that he could ask, and he had refused her. And for what, a woman who would rather lay down in a cold bed and call herself pure instead of sharing his bed and enjoying all the joy that he could give her? No more. No more would Galahad let thoughts of Juliana rule his mind, his body. No more would he turn from Zephaniah when she was ready to give him anything he wanted. It was time for him to focus on his own needs instead of letting those of a woman who flatly refused him control him.

But such things are always easier said than done.

> > > > >

She didn't got to Confession. That had been the plan at first, but Juliana found herself to frightened to enter the confession booth and tell Father Gannis of her sins. Though a curtain separated the priest from those who were confessing, Juliana knew that he would know it was her on the other side. And she could not face the fact that he would know her deepest shame.

Instead, she had spent hours kneeling before the altar. She had knelt there until her knees and back were sore; repeating the same prayer over and over again. God would forgive her, Juliana knew that in the very depths of her soul. But, the question was, could she forgive herself?

For certainly her guilt had been eating away at her. And it wasn't just her actions that weighed her with guilt, but the fact that she had enjoyed those actions.

Juliana sat in her room. Night had fallen and with it she felt herself able to relax. Another day had passed and still no one knew of her sin. She had kept it hidden for at least a little longer.

Dressed in only her shift, Juliana brushed out the knots out of her hair. She brushed the fiery mane over her left shoulder, exposing the dark mark of her sin. Unconsciously she raised a hand to touch the bruise. Despite herself, Juliana felt a wistful smile creeping up her lips. Her mind replayed that night, the touch of Galahad's roughened hands, the feel of his lips.

_No_, Juliana thought, quickly coming down from the euphoria of her thoughts, _no I cannot think this way. I cannot._

Placing the brush down on the small table that it called home, Juliana turned to go to bed.

A knock echoed through the sparse room. With a sigh, Juliana turned for the door. She opened it to find Mother Superior standing there. The older woman's eyes were kind as she smiled down at Juliana. Then her smile quickly faded and her lips pressed into a firm line. Her eyes hardened, turning from sunshine and springtime to winter and cold bitter winds. Juliana was shocked at the quick transformation, but then she noticed where Mother Superior's eyes lay.Juliana's pulse quickened and her hand flew up to cover the mark that rested on her exposed collarbone.

Mother Superior stepped through the doorway into Juliana's room, her eyes flaming, and slammed the door shut behind her.

> > > > >

Ooh, Juliana's been found out. Now the story is going to start getting interesting.

This chapter wasn't one of my favorites, but then again, I am my own worst critic. Please review and tell me what you guys thought.

PS. Sorry it was so short.


	15. Chapter 15

It took me a little longer than I expected to update this story, but, finally, an update there is. Lol.

I don't have time to individually thank all of you who have reviewed, so I just want to say a general thank you to all you guys. Your thoughts and opinions and encouragement really help me.

Now, on with the chapter.

Chapter Fifteen

Juliana trembled as Mother Superior approached her. The large woman seemed to tower above Juliana. She continued to walk towards Juliana who, overcome by fear of Mother Superior, stepped back from the imposing form.

"What," Mother Superior's voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper, "is that?" She raised a finger that was just beginning to grow gnarled from old age, and pointed at where Juliana's hand rested, covering the shameful mark.

The trembling within the young woman's body increased as she fought to find the words that could curtail the severity of the situation.

"Mother Superior," she began, her voice quivering. Taking in a deep breath, Juliana forced herself to calm. "Mother Superior, I can explain." Despite the fact that her voice still trembled, she sounded a bit more confident than before.

"You had better." Mother Superior snapped, her eyes blazing furiously. "I took a vow that no woman under my care would come to sinful acts. But it seems that you have a mind of your own, Juliana. I always knew that you were too willful and too stubborn to be a nun. But, despite my better judgment I allowed you to stay on at the convent and take your vows. And now look," she grasped Juliana's hand in her own and yanked it away from the bruise. "You have disgraced us all. You have made a mockery of our faith for this whole heathenistic place to witness."

Tears bit at the backs of Juliana's eyes, but she willed them to keep at bay. She could not allow Mother Superior to see her crying, lest it be one more thing for the woman to latch on to.

"Well no more," the older woman continued. "You will return to Rome at once and serve out your punishment under the supervision of the nuns still at the convent."

"Mother Superior, no!" Juliana cried. Return to Rome? She couldn't bare to do it. Not after she had seen all the wonderful beauty that Britain had. She would die if she could no longer go out onto the plains and feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.

"No?" Mother Superior's eyebrows formed together above her eyes. "You will listen to me, Juliana. You will listen and you will obey."

Juliana started to protest, but Mother Superior cut her off with a glare.

"You will return to Rome as soon as possible and there you shall remain, locked in your apartment until you realize the enormity of your sins. To think, one of my own would lie with a man like a no good harlot. You've brought this upon yourself, Juliana, and you only have yourself to blame for your punishment."

"Please, Mother Superior…"

But the old woman was finished. She turned her back on Juliana without a word and left the small apartment, slamming the door closed behind her.

The instant the door shut, Juliana fell onto her bed, her body racked with heavy sobs.

Return to Rome. Britain was too much a part of her now. She lived for the trees and the grassy plains and the azure sky. The very water that flowed in the streams now flowed through Juliana's veins. This land was part of her and she a part of it. There was no doubt in Juliana's mind. Should she return to Rome it would most certainly be the death of her.

> > > > > 

The night passed whilst Juliana lay sobbing herself to sleep.

She awoke the next morning to a room brightened by early morning sunlight, so different from the dark turmoil she felt within her soul. Her eyes were red-rimmed and rheumy from lack of sleep. For her sleep had been troubled and haunted with images of Mother Superior's fiery eyes and the bleakness of Rome.

Though Juliana had been unable to think of a solution for her problem, she knew one thing for certain: she would not go back. No matter what she had to do, she would not return to Rome.

_But Mother Superior will make me go,_ she thought. _She will make me go and I will have no choice. There is nothing that anyone can do to change her mind._

Had there been tears left within her to cry, Juliana would have certainly broken down then.

Below her room, Juliana could hear the other nuns preparing for the new day. They all sounded so cheerful as they talked and worked together, none knowing the fate that had befallen Juliana.

She bit her lip and moved from her bed to the small window. She had sat at that spot many times, always looking out at the beauty offered by Britain's plains. How could she leave all this behind? It was impossible.

Above the chatter of nuns and the whistle of those birds brave enough to weather Britain's winter, Juliana heard the unmistakable clang of sword metal.

Despite herself, she could feel her heart skip a beat. Galahad was out there. She just knew it. He was out there practicing his swordplay with his companions, and, probably, not a thought about her entered into his mind. But Juliana was thinking about him.

Her mind instantly flashed to that night. The pleasure it had brought her, and now the pain. Though she knew the fault lay entirely on her shoulders, she couldn't help but blame Galahad just a little for his part in her having to leave Britain. It was he, after all, that had tempted her.

_Lord, why did you have to make him so beautiful?_ She sighed and rested her head against the cold stone wall. Her eyes drifted close and, in her mind, she pictured Galahad in the practice court. The sunlight glinting off his sword's blade, his dark eyes narrowed as he assessed his opponent. A slow smile spread across her lips as she continued to imagine the scene. The corners of his mouth were brought up into a calculating smile and he moved with determined steps.

With a jolt, Juliana brought herself back to reality. She could not think of him, of his rugged and handsome face, of his eyes that seemed to sparkle as if stars resided within their depths. She shook her head, freeing her mind of the pesky daydream.

_Remember what he has done to you_, she chided herself. _Remember that, because of him, you must leave this beautiful country._

"But it is not entirely his fault." She stated to the empty room. "It's my fault as well for giving into him. I cannot blame him for this. I should have known better than to go down there that night. I knew it that something would happen if I went and yet I did not heed my own mind's warning."

She drew in a deep breath and shook her head.

"No, the blame is my own."

With a slim finger, Juliana traced the stones around the window. Outside, she watched the clouds move swiftly across the sky, driven by the forceful wind. The bony skeletons of the trees were beginning to show and their dark limbs stood out against hazy winter colors.

Another sigh tore itself from deep within Juliana. She knew there was no way that Mother Superior would change her mind.

"If I am to return to Rome," she stated determinedly, "then I shall at least enjoy my remaining time here."

She stood, dressed herself quickly, and wrapped her cloak about her before leaving the room.

>>>>>

This chapter is not one of my favorites, and it's kinda short (sorry 'bout that). But I had to write it so that Juliana's fate could be known and to set the scene for the upcoming chapters, which I am so looking forward to writing. Anyways, please review and tell me what you all thought.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry it took so long for me to update. Writer's block sure is a pesky thing isn't it? I want to thank all you wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter: _homeric_, _TheHollister_, _KnightMaiden_, _grullo-cowgirl_, _The Wild Woman_, _Wander of the Roads_, _bloodredcherry_, _You'reJustJealousCozISoundLikeARockstar_, _Nilmelwen_, _Evenstar-mor2004_, _problemgirl008_, _LegolasIsMine_, _wild-vixen_, _wintersummerspringfall_, _greenDayzIdiot_, _DirrtyXtina87_, and _Lady Marek_. You guys are truly amazing. Thank you. Now, on with the chapter.

Chapter Sixteen

Juliana pulled her cloak tightly around her as she made her way towards the far wall of the church's courtyard. The wind buffeted around her, biting at her face and chafing her hands. Her hair blew about her face in a wild cloud of curls. A shiver ran down her spine and Juliana rubbed her red-knuckled hands together to keep the blood flowing. Why, on every other day, did the courtyard feel so small?

The clang of sword meeting sword sounded across the yard, calling to Juliana like a siren on the rocks and her footsteps hastened towards the sound.

Once at the wall, she stood on her tip-toes to see over top. Just as she had thought, Galahad was there, his sword glinting in the pale winter sunlight as he swept it in a high arc. Juliana felt her pulse being to race as she watched him. The power and grace in his movements was enough to drive any woman, nun or not, mad.

Almost as if he could sense her watching, Galahad's eyes moved from his opponent, a fierce looking bald-headed man, to Juliana. Her heart stopped for a second before she forced herself to calm. This was, after all, the reason she'd come to the wall. To see Galahad, and have him see her. Taking in a deep breath, she kept her eyes locked with his. A look of confusion and hope swept over his face. But it quickly vanished and his attention refocused on his opponent.

A confused frown furrowed Juliana's brow. What was happening? In the past Galahad had always been so…_eager _to see her. But now he acted as if Juliana were not even there. So what had changed?

> > > > >

Never before had Galahad been more aware of someone watching him. He knew it was Juliana, he'd seen her peeking above the wall, an almost hungry expression in her eyes.

Galahad had wanted to go to her, to drop everything and jump the wall that separated them. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and claim her as his own. But just as quickly as the thoughts entered his mind, he pushed them away. What use was it to make promises to oneself if one did not intend to keep them?

> > > > >

Moving through the small crowd that surrounded the practice court, Guinevere found an empty space at the fence and moved towards it. Leaning her elbows against the rough wood, she watched as Galahad and Bors maneuvered around one another. Their blades cut through the still air with a loud _swoosh_.

Her eyes moved over the spectators. Most were children (mainly Bors'), their eager young faces watching the knights and their eyes lit with awe. But a few young maids stood around, their eyes focused on Galahad and their lips turned up in flirtatious smiles. Some men also joined the circle, mainly stable hands or others who worked close to Camelot's manor house.

A stone wall fenced in one section of the practice yard. It was the wall that separated the church from the rest of the village. And above that wall, Guinevere spotted a head of fiery red hair. With a quick glance around, Guinevere noted that only she noticed the young woman who's eager eyes were fixed on Galahad.

_Perhaps I'm _not _the only one who's noticed her_, Guinevere thought as she watched Galahad's eyes move- ever so slightly- to the young woman. A fire lit in his eyes, one of passion and longing. But it quickly faded and he was once more moving with swift grace around the yard. Guinevere moved her gaze back to the young woman. The dark, somber eyes were shrouded in hurt and her bow shaped lips were turned down at the corners in a disappointed frown. She was pretty, Guinevere had to give the young woman that. And, obviously, there was- or had been at least- something between her and Galahad. Why else would she be at the wall, risking the wrath of the stodgy old woman who ruled over the nuns?

Guinevere's lips turned up at the corners in a sly smile. She always had loved a challenge.

> > > > >

The harsh wind brushed across Juliana's face. Her hair flew about her like a flame over the barren landscape. With her legs curled up beneath her, Juliana sat at the edge of the stream; its waters unchanged by the icy weather.

She stared at the flowing water, her mind taking her back to a time when her lime had been so simple. So easy and uncomplicated. But now her life had changed.

She had said she'd make the most of her remaining time in Britain, but that idea had fled the second that Galahad turned his back on Juliana. Her heart was crushed. Why had he ignored her so?

Tears sprang to Juliana's eyes, but were quickly whisked away on the wind. She had only wanted to talk to him, to tell him good-bye and the truth…she was in love with him. For she had come to realize, with the knowledge that she was being sent away, that she truly did care for him. But now Juliana would not have that chance. Galahad wanted nothing to do with her. And Juliana couldn't blame him. She had brushed off his feelings for her so cold-heartedly. There was no hope that he would ever speak to her again, not after she had hurt him so badly. Juliana realized that now.

A shadow fell over her, blotting out the bit of sun that insisted on peeking through the heavy clouds. She looked up in surprise, startled that she had not even heard anyone approach.

The woman that stood over her was one of the most beautiful women that Juliana had ever seen. Her nut brown hair hung over her shoulders in glossy ringlets, framing a heart shaped face from which two intelligent eyes gazed down at Juliana. Her slender figure was garbed in a simple yet elegant dress of the deepest green.

Juliana recognized her from Mass. Queen Guinevere.

"Your Majesty?" Juliana scurried to her feet and bowed low to the wife of King Arthur. A soft laugh floated down to Juliana's ears before being borne away on the wind. Shocked, Juliana looked up into the queen's gentle eyes.

"You don't have to bow to me." Guinevere stated. "You're a woman who serves a higher power. I may not believe in your god, but I understand that you're a holy woman. And in this land, our holy people do not need to bow to mere queens."

Juliana straightened until she stood eye to eye with the young queen.

"What brings you out here on such a day as this, my lady?" Juliana asked, clinging to the decorum that she had been taught as a child.

"I saw you today, at the wall separating the church and the knight's practice court." Guinevere replied simply. Juliana fought to hide her surprise. She had thought no one had seen her, that she had escaped with only Galahad to witness the shame and embarrassment he'd caused her.

"I…" her mind could not bring forth an excuse. Shaking her head, Juliana rambled, words coming out of her mouth before she could think of what they were. "I only was there because I wanted to know what the sound was that the wind carried to my window. I didn't mean to-"

"It is alright. I'm not here to reprimand you for watching a little sword play." Guinevere shook her head and laughed. "Why would I do that? I am not heartless. I would not deny a person their curiosity."

Juliana felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment for being caught tongue-tied by the queen. For surely this woman, as stately as she was, had never been without the proper words to explain herself. Juliana felt like a simple forest flower to Guinevere's rose. She paled in comparison to the woman who could not have possibly been older than herself. And yet Juliana felt like a small child while Guinevere was the older sister who knew so much more of the world.

"I've sought you out for a specific reason." Guinevere said, bringing Juliana's mind back to the plain.

"Me?" Juliana did not understand what it was that Guinevere wanted with her. Why the queen would want her, a nun, for any reason.

"Yes, you, Juliana." Guinevere's smile was one of patience. The young nun's eyes flew to those of the queen. How had she learned Juliana's name?

"After I saw you at the wall, I asked around about you." Guinevere explained, seeing Juliana's expression.

"It only took a few moments for me to pry your name from Galahad."

Galahad. Juliana paled at his name. He was her demise. The reason she was being sent back to Rome. And she loved him so much.

Had he told Guinevere merely her name, or everything else that had transpired between them? And how had she known to ask Galahad in the first place?

"I saw you watching him earlier." It was as if Guinevere could read her mind. Juliana lowered her eyes and stared at the dirt that peeked out between blades of rustling grass.

"Tell me, Juliana, when was it that you found yourself in love with him?"

"Please my lady," Juliana whispered, "do not make me tell you my sins." Her eyes went beseechingly to Guinevere's. "I have tortured myself enough over my lustful thoughts. And for those thoughts I am being punished."

"It's not a sin to love someone." Guinevere shook her head, a sad look in her eyes as she looked at Juliana. "Is that what they teach you?"

"Nun's are not supposed to love in such a way that I care for Galahad." Juliana confessed. She didn't know why, but she felt as if she could tell this to Guinevere, that her feelings would be safe with the young queen.

"It is forbidden for us to act upon those feelings, should we have them. We do not live as others do. We are married to Christ and thus must abstain from contact between the two sexes. And, it is because I have broken that rule that I am to be sent away."

Guinevere frowned, her brows furrowing together.

"Sent away?"

"Yes. Mother Superior discovered my sins and as punishment I am to be sent back to Rome where I will lock myself away until I can cleanse myself."

"This is why I will not accept your god." Guinevere's harsh tone startled Juliana. "He demands that you give up everything that is human. And, should you simply grant yourself the pleasure of experiencing life then you are punished for something that every human has the right to experience. How can anyone live in such a way?"

"God does not punish." Juliana stated. Her words were softly spoken and she feared that the wind had carried them away before Guinevere could hear them.

"Then why must you be punished for loving a man?" She'd heard after all.

"I…I do not know." Juliana shook her head. The numerous scriptures that she had memorized through the years had fled her mind.

"If you want to be with Galahad, why not leave the church?"

"Because it is my life. It is all I've known since I was a baby."

"Perhaps it's time for a change." The look in Guinevere's eyes sparked something within Juliana. Something that she had long since let go of. Hope.

>>>>>

Well, it's not one of my favorite chapters, but it will do. This was merely a sort of stepping stone for later chapters, so sorry if it's kinda crappy. The whole conversation with Juliana and Guinevere's not very good, then again I am my own worst critic. So please tell me what you thought.

I don't know when I'll update next. I'm gonna be pretty busy with school and helping my brother go out to college and then doing some college tours and stuff. But I will try and update as soon as possible. I promise. And the next chapter will be way better than this one.

Anyways please review and tell me what you thought. The more reviews I get the faster the next chapter will be out. I hope. Lol.

Ps. Sorry that Guinevere was kinda out of character.


	17. Chapter 17

I want to say a special thank you to all you who reviewed last chapter and helped me to see that it wasn't really as crappy as I thought it was. Lol. So, thank you to: _MedievalWarriorPrincess_, _The EarthSong_, _DirrtyXtina87_, _Archangle_, _bloodredcherry_, _Wander of the Roads_, _greenDayzIdiot_, _TheHollister_, _grullo-cowgirl_, _LegolasIsMine_, _You'reJustJealousCozISoundLikeARockstar_, _Nilmelwen_, _wild-vixen_, _KnightMaiden_, _Lady Marek_, _problemgirl088_, _The Wild Woman_, and _homeric_. Thank you all so much.

Chapter Seventeen

As she packed her few belongings, Juliana looked around the barren room. This would be the last time she laid eyes on it. Though it had been an uncomfortable and empty place, it had still been her home for the short months she'd been in Britain. And she was sad to leave it all behind.

Juliana closed the small trunk that held her earthly possessions and sighed. Her time had come to an end. Now she must bid farewell to the friends she had here, and pray that they wouldn't forget her. For once she left, she would never again be able to step foot inside the stone walls of the church. It was time to leave behind this life and all that it offered to her.

Stepping out of the small room, Juliana closed the door behind her. The protesting squeal of the hinges seemed, to Juliana, as a final farewell from the sad little apartment. A faint smile presented itself upon her lips and she touched the door, feeling the rough wood beneath her soft fingertips, one last time.

"Tis a sad day when we must bid one of our own goodbye." Sister Helen said, tears shining in her eyes. "We shall all miss you dreadfully, Juliana."

The older nun drew her into a tight embrace, and Juliana felt her courage crumbling around her. But she held tight to her resolve. This was, after all, the path that she had chosen.

"I'll miss you all as well." She whispered in Sister Helen's ear. "I shall never forget you." She kissed the older woman's cheek through her wimple before continuing down the hall, dragging her small trunk behind her.

As she continued towards the stairs, more of the Sisters said their tearful goodbyes, all wishing her happiness at the end of her journey.

She traveled down the stairs and towards the large front doors of the church. They swung open before her and she stared out at the bustling street. Drawing in a resigned breath, Juliana stepped from the church and into her new life.

> > > > > 

"I hope that you will find these accommodations acceptable." The maid said as she led Juliana towards her new apartment in Arthur's court. "Queen Guinevere wished that you would have the most comfortable room available."

Juliana followed behind the maid, taking in the sights of the beautiful home. Though she was certain the court was not on the scale of Rome's finest homes, it was still the most beautiful home that Juliana had ever seen. The walls were a finely polished wood and the stone floors were covered in the finest fur rugs, muffling the footfalls of those who traveled the halls.

The maid stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

"Here we are." She said. Juliana followed her into a room nearly three times the size of her one back at the church.

The walls matched those in the rest of the large home and a rug made of fox furs sat in front of a stone fireplace that had a fire already going inside. A row of windows allowed in the winter sunlight, casting shadows across the floor. A large, comfortable looking bed sat against one wall and across from it sat a bureau set with intricate carvings. Another door sat nestled in the wall beside the chest. It was opened partly and Juliana could see a wooden tub inside.

"I hope this will suffice." The maid said, hands on her hips as she surveyed the room herself.

"It's…" Juliana shook her head in wonderment. "It's more than I could have hoped for." She breathed.

"There's clothes in there," the maid pointed to the bureau. "Queen Guinevere had some of her old things put in there so that you would have new clothes to wear instead of-" Juliana felt the maid's eyes moving over her frumpy nun's dress.

"Thank you." Juliana said, her eyes moving rebukingly to the maid's. The other woman had the decency to look embarrassed and quickly dropped her eyes.

"The queen says that you are to have the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with the house before you begin your job tomorrow. Dinner is at nightfall. Do not be late." The maid said briskly before turning and leaving the room.

As the door shut behind her, Juliana stared at her new home. She still couldn't believe what she had done.

When Guinevere had sought her out the day before, Juliana had had no idea what would come out of the queen's mouth. And she certainly hadn't thought it would be what it had been.

She sank onto the bed, allowing the feather mattress to contour to her body. Closing her eyes, Juliana thought back to the day before.

_"Perhaps it's time for a change." Guinevere said. _

"A change, my lady? What do you mean?" Juliana had to confess, she was quite confused as to what Guinevere meant."

"I am in a position where I will need a new maid. Someone who can look after me in the coming months." Guinevere placed a hand over her stomach in a motherly fashion.

"My lady, are you…" Juliana stopped. Mother Superior had always taught her it was wrong to ask the village women if they were in the family way.

A mysterious smile graced Guinevere's perfect mouth.

"Yes." She replied. "I believe I am. And that is why I will need your help, Juliana."

"I…I don't know much about babies." Juliana shook her head. She had never had interaction with children except for those that the church took in. And even then her contact with them had been limited.

"That's quite alright." Guinevere said. "There are plenty women in Camelot who can give me advice and all of that. I suppose that's why I don't want any of them to help me. I don't want anyone telling me how to raise my child. I would rather learn it all on my own. That's why you are the perfect one to help me."

"I don't understand." Juliana said, even more confused. Guinevere laughed.

"I need someone to help me who won't try to take over the raising of this child." She rubbed her hand over her belly. "And that's why you're perfect."

"But-"

"I won't take no for an answer, Juliana."

As she lay on the bed, Juliana still wasn't certain if Guinevere had made the right decision. What did Juliana know of children? Nothing. Well, except for the fact that they were noisy and often smelt very badly. But she did find them quite beautiful despite their noise and smell. Who couldn't find babies beautiful? They were one of God's most wondrous creations. An absolute marvel.

Juliana stood. Though she still knew not why Guinevere had chosen her, she was here now and should embrace it. Had she not prayed to God for a way to deliver her from a return to Rome? This was surely God's interference, was it not? Why, then, should Juliana doubt it.

She walked towards the bureau and pulled its doors open. The first step into this new life would be to rid herself of the drab garments of her former life. But the action was more easily said than done. As she stripped the black dress off, Juliana thought of all that she was leaving behind. She would never again be able to step inside the church. Mother Superior would make sure of that.

The older nun had been so enraged when Juliana had told her that she was leaving the church, and was going to live in Arthur's court. She was certain that Mother Superior would have strangled her had Guinevere not been there as well. A tear slid down Juliana's cheek as she remembered the hurt and betrayed expression on Mother Superior's face. It had been so horrible to behold. Juliana felt the guilt eating at her soul even now. She had betrayed the woman who had cared for her since birth.

Screwing her eyes shut, Juliana flung the old dress from her and reached blindly for a new one.

> > > > > 

Well, did you guys like it? I hope so. I probably won't update for awhile. We're taking my brother out to college next week and will probably be gone for some days. I hope that you guys will read and review. Who knows, if I get enough reviews I might have enough inspiration to review sooner than I think.

PS. Sorry it was so short. Next chapter will be longer. I promise.


	18. Chapter 18

Wow, over two hundred reviews! You guys are so cool. I don't have time to thank all y'all who reviewed last chapter. Just know that I am very grateful to all of you for doing so.

Chapter Eighteen

Surely this was a mirage that he was seeing. A trick of light and ale.

Galahad couldn't, no, he _wouldn't_ believe his eyes. She could not be standing there, looking around the outdoor tavern as if she were looking for someone- would it be egotistical if he thought she was looking for him? And she definitely could not be standing there looking very un-nun like in a deep russet dress, her fiery hair pulled into a long braid that ran down the length of her back. She looked so beautiful, so enticing. It was all Galahad could do not to go to her at that moment.

_No!_ He chastised himself. _This is only an illusion. I have thought of her so often that my mind has conjured her into existence._

And it was true, he had thought of her often. Ever since they'd parted ways, Galahad had thought of Juliana every waking moment. Even when he'd made a vow to put her from his mind.

Around his neck, Zephaniah's arms tightened. So she had seen Juliana as well. No doubt Zephaniah was threatened by Juliana. After all, who could compare to Juliana's beauty, which was so magnified now that she was no longer dressed in the drab garb of the nunnery.

She shifted in his lap as she scrutinized this new arrival. And her eyes were not the only ones studying Juliana. No, every person in the tavern had turned their attention to the young woman. And Galahad couldn't blame them. Juliana was a stunning sight to behold. Though her eyes were filled with uncertainty and fear, she carried herself with a grace and confidence that was matched by hardly any other.

Juliana's eyes had yet to light upon Galahad, and for that he was grateful. Shame filled him as he pictured what Juliana would see should she look at him. Here he was, a man who had confessed that he loved her barely three days ago, and already he had another woman on his knee. Galahad wished to push Zephaniah off him, but he knew that any movement would surely draw Juliana's eye. And he did not wish her to see him in this way. And so, he prayed to whatever gods there were that her gaze would not move to him, and that he would be spared the embarrassment that would surely come should she see him.

But the gods were not with him. No sooner had he begun his feverish prayers then Juliana's eyes caught his. Her gaze seemed to be able to see straight into his very soul. To see all the shame and self-loathing that rested there. Galahad wanted to turn from her gaze, to keep her from seeing that dirty part of his soul. But his eyes could not move. It was as if she had cast a spell over him, one that would not allow his eyes to move from hers. He felt like a prisoner; but there was no cell to keep him there, only Juliana's beautiful ivy green eyes. And that was worse than any cell or dungeon.

A small, shy smile, tugged at the corners of Juliana's mouth and her eyes lit with the smile. But it quickly faded as her eyes flitted to Zephaniah. A mask fell over Juliana's face then. An expressionless mask that Galahad wished would disappear. He wanted to see that smile again, the one that made his heart race and his pulse pound in his veins. But it would not return.

>>>>>

_It was a mistake to come here_.

Juliana's mind screamed for her to turn and leave this den of wickedness and sin. But her feet remained firmly planted on the earth. Every inch of her body was frozen in place. Her eyes would not move from Galahad's form, or, more precisely, the woman who sat upon his lap.

The beautiful girl had a possessive arm around Galahad's shoulders as she leaned against his chest. She glared at Juliana, her lips set in a frown.

_I have made a terrible mistake_._ I should never have agreed to this. I should have gone to Rome when I had the chance. _

She didn't belong here. Juliana didn't belong in this world; the world outside the church.

Eyes burned into her skin from every angle. It seemed as if the whole town had congregated to see her: the nun that was no more. Juliana felt like a Christian of old. Those Christians who were thrown to the lions in the rink, the crowd cheering for their blood. Nobody wanted her here. So why had she come?

After Juliana had picked out a new gown to wear, she had, timidly, asked a maid for water to be brought to her room so that she could bathe. Upon the water's arrival, Juliana had sunk into the tub and enjoyed the first true bath that she'd had in many a months. It had been such a terrific and exhilarating feeling that she had stayed in the tub until the water grew cold. And, by that time, dinner had ended.

_That's right,_ she thought as her stomach growled lightly, causing a heated blush to creep up her cheeks, _I was hungry._

But her hunger was no match for the fear that filled her. Nor was hunger any match for the icy hatred that was slowly growing inside her.

How dare Galahad claim he love her. How dare he compromise her reputation and get her thrown from the church. And then, barely days after he claimed such a thing, he dared to have another woman on his knee. The gall of that man!

Juliana felt her blush of embarrassment turn to one of anger. Her jaw clenched and her fingers tightened into fists. Suddenly all the eyes upon her seemed to fade from her thought. No one else in the room existed but Galahad and the tramp that he was parading around. Her lower lip began to tremble with a rage that Juliana had never before felt. Righteous anger. Yes, that was what it was called. Evil thoughts began to fill her mind; thoughts of violence towards Galahad and his whore.

_No._ Juliana mentally shook the thoughts from her mind. _No matter what he has done, I should not allow my thoughts such freedom. I must get away from here, before I allow my emotions to rule me._

Juliana gathered her courage and will about her like a shroud. And, turning on her heels, she quickly left the tavern.

>>>>>

The woman fled. Zephaniah watched her disappear into the night, her hair swinging behind her as she quickly walked away. A smirk replaced the frown. It was good that she had left of her own freewill, or else Zephaniah would have had to take matters into her own hands.

There was nothing Zephaniah hated more than a woman who would openly eye another woman's man. It was just not right. But what was worse, was that that tramp had eyed _Zephaniah's _man. That just did not sit well with the young woman.

She trailed a slim finger across Galahad's bearded jaw, tracing the contours of his face seductively. It was bad enough that the woman had been staring at Galahad, but did he have to return her stare? Zephaniah's smirk turned into an evil smile. It was time to remind Galahad who it was that he was with, to which woman he owed his allegiance.

>>>>>

Guinevere paced the floor of her sitting room. The time had come to tell Arthur of his impending fatherhood. But, now that the time had come, Guinevere was no longer certain that his reaction would be a happy one. What if he didn't want a child right now? What if he didn't want a child period? The questions flew through her mind at breakneck speed, one quickly following another until Guinevere's mind spun and her head ached.

The door to their shared room opened, and Guinevere turned to face her husband. His brow was creased and the lines about his eyes seemed to have deepened since dinner. He looked old and worn. Something was causing him worry, but he would not divulge the secret to Guinevere.

What was he hiding? She could not help but wonder. What could he not tell her? It worried her to no end that he would keep a secret from her; that he would hide the truth from the woman who loved him, who had fought beside him. But she trusted him. And she knew, that in time, he would tell her. Right now, however, was her time to tell a secret.

"Arthur," she said, kissing him in greeting and drawing him further into the room, "there's something I must tell you."

His eyes snapped to hers. There was a fear there, as if what she had to tell him was something of danger or a source of worry.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice hesitant. Guinevere forced herself to smile. If she could not relax, how could she expect her husband to.

"Don't worry, it's happy news." She said with affected cheerfulness. Arthur said nothing, but his eyes implored her to continue. Guinevere bit her lip and took a brief second to think of how she wished to word her news.

She took Arthur's rough and calloused hand in hers.

"Arthur, I'm…I'm pregnant."

There. The words were out. Now it all rested upon Arthur's shoulders.

Seconds passed in a seemingly unending space of time. Suddenly, the years seemed to slip from Arthur's face and a radiant smile broke through. He pulled Guinevere into his arms and kissed her passionately over and over again.

Laughing with glee, Guinevere returned his kisses with eager abandon.

"That is the happiest news I could ever hear." He whispered in her ear between kisses. "You have made me a happy man, Guinevere. Tomorrow we shall have a great feast and tell everyone our news."

Guinevere smiled. She couldn't have asked for a better reaction from Arthur.

"But tonight," he continued, taking her hand in his and leading her towards their bedchamber, "tonight we shall have our own celebration."

>>>>>

Well folks, what did you think of this chapter? Please review and tell me what you thought.


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry it took so long to post this. I had a terrible case of writer's block.

I'd like to thank all you guys who reviewed last chapter and putthis story over the two hundred review mark. You guystotally rock! I don't have time to list all your names. But each of you (or those of you who did not give anonymous reviews) will be receiving an individual thank you from me.

Chapter Nineteen

The day was spent in harried preparations. Everybody was rushing about, making sure that everything would be ready for the party that Arthur had decided- only the night before- to give for the town. There were whispers as to what this celebration was about. Rumors flew about, spreading through Camelot like wildfire. But none knew the true reason for the celebration. None but the king and queen, and Juliana.

She had woken early that day and, though she wished only to lay in bed and wallow in her self-pity, she forced herself to get out of the bed and dress for the day. It was her first day as a maid, her first day of life outside the church walls. Needless to say that she was nervous. What if she messed up? Juliana did not wish to make Guinevere regret her decision. So, she was determined to do her best, and to make her queen proud.

Juliana hesitantly knocked on the door to Guinevere's chamber. The door opened to reveal Arthur. Quickly, she curtsied low, her eyes dropping down to the floor in a sign of humbleness.

"You must be Juliana." Shocked, her eyes flew to his face. How had he known her name? She was only a maid, a woman who, back in Rome, would never have gained the attention of the Emperor. Why then, did the king of Camelot know her name?

His throaty laugh echoed down the hallway. Juliana felt her cheeks burn hot in embarrassment. He was laughing at her. This was not a good way to start her first day. Juliana felt her shame all the way down to her toes.

"No need to be so shocked." Arthur said, his laughter coming to an end. "I make it a habit to know the names of all those who work for me."

Juliana attempted a smile, trying to hide the fact that she thought herself a fool. How would she ever survive here in this world? She was not made for this life.

"Guinevere is waiting for you in the bedchamber." He said, stepping out into the hallway. "Have a good day, Juliana." With that he walked off, leaving Juliana alone in front of the door.

_Well, go on, get in there._ She could not force her feet to move. _You are not a coward. You can do this._

Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her.

> > > > >

It wasn't too difficult for Juliana to fall into her role as Queen's Maid. Years of service in the church had prepared her for this new task. And it helped that Guinevere was patient with Juliana, and that the queen didn't mind explaining things to the young woman.

Juliana was kept in a state of constant business all that day as she helped Guinevere to prepare for the festivities that night. She was too busy to even have time to think. And for that Juliana was grateful. Her mind was too full to contemplate the fact that she would, once again, have to face Galahad that night.

It wasn't until Guinevere sent Juliana away so that the young maid could ready herself that the thought came crashing down on her.

She could not face him. Not again. Not after what had happened the night before. For if she saw him again, Juliana was certain that she would be flooded by the same anger that had taken her the last time. And she could not allow that to happen. Anger was an emotion that she did not need in her already complicated life. She was ill equipped to handle such a strong feeling. Life as a nun had not prepared her for evil emotions or thoughts, and Juliana knew that if she felt anger again that she would surely give in to it.

_But I must go tonight_, she thought, _I must attend to Guinevere. That is my job now, and I cannot fail in it._

Juliana closed her eyes in prayer, seeking God's divine wisdom and His strength. She would need all His help in battling against her own humanness.

> > > > >

The festivities were in full swing. The main hall of Arthur's home had been transformed from a drab stone room into a beautiful Eden overflowing with flowers. The heady scents of each flower mingled with those of the delicious foods that sat on each table. The townspeople, when not eating, danced in the center of the hall. Music floated about the room, echoing through to the corridors and out into the gardens.

Despite herself, Juliana became wrapped up into the gaiety of it all; and all thought of Galahad fled her mind. She laughed and smiled until her face hurt, and ate foods that she had never before tasted until her stomach began to protest. Juliana watched the townspeople whirl about the floor in an array of colors. In spite of the short warning that they had received, all had come decked out in their best party clothes. Young men and women eyed each other through the fray of dancers, their cheeks flushed with childlike happiness as they flirted and danced. The older people of the village danced close to their loved ones, stealing kisses as if they were young again.

Juliana's feet itched to join in the dance, but she knew not the steps, nor had she been asked by any of the young gentlemen. Even if she were asked, Juliana was uncertain of whether or not she would accept. She'd never had much interaction with men before, not including Galahad, and she was uncertain of how to act around them. She watched the girls her own age as they batted their eyelashes and smiled shyly at the boys they liked. She could never act as they did, of that Juliana was certain. Any attempt she made at flirtation would likely end up looking stupid. And Juliana had no wish to make a fool of herself.

So, she stayed by Guinevere's side, refilling the queen's goblet with watered wine whenever it was low. And she contented herself with simply watching the fun.

> > > > >

From his place in the corner, Galahad watched Juliana. She was so beautiful with the light of a thousand candles playing off her ivory skin and brilliant hair. She moved with a grace that was surpassed by none other.

He was so deeply in love with her that Galahad feared his heart would burst simply by watching her. He wanted nothing more than to take Juliana in his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to take her to his bed and show her just how much he cared. But he couldn't.

Galahad was stuck where he was, knowing that he could never have Juliana. And the reality crushed his heart until there was nothing left of it.

Zephaniah's hand was like the grip of death on his arm. She had not left his side once since he'd entered the hall earlier and she had materialized beside him. It was as if he were her slave; constantly having to serve her and never gaining his freedom. She stifled any hope that he had of being near Juliana. For Galahad knew that as long as Zephaniah was beside him, Juliana would not step towards him, nor would she even look at him.

_I am a knight, damn it!_ His mind cried. _I should be able to free myself from this woman._

But what woman did he speak of? Was it Juliana, whose love he would never have? Or was it Zephaniah, the woman who he wished he'd never set eyes on? Even Galahad did not know, and the thoughts were his own.

"Come," Zephaniah whispered in his ear, "let us dance."

She ran a hand seductively down his arm and entwined her fingers with his own. Disgusted, Galahad threw her hand from his. She glared at him, her eyes twin pits of fire and fury. But the look quickly faded from her eyes and she smiled.

"What, do you not wish to dance with me?" She pouted. Her sudden change of mood frightened Galahad.

"No," he replied, quickly diverting his eyes from hers, "I do not."

Galahad felt suddenly stifled within the hall. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him, and the delicious feast of smells began to gag him. He needed fresh air and freedom.

He stood and began to walk towards the nearest door. Zephaniah moved to follow him, but he whirled around and placed a hand up to stop her.

"No," he said, "I wish to be alone."

Her mouth tightened into a line and her eyes hardened. But Zephaniah made no move to follow him out of the room.

> > > > >

Juliana's cheeks burned with the heat of the room. She moved swiftly through the crowd, carrying a new pitcher of wine towards the table where the king and queen sat with their knights. Juliana had been nervous when she'd first seen that the knights would be joining the table, but she'd breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Galahad was not among them. But why was he not there? The question pestered her as she worked. Why was he not at the party like everyone else?

A thought sprang to her mind. And her cheeks flushed, but not from the heat. She knew the reason now. Surely his little companion was keeping him company this night. He must have no need to venture from his own room, for certainly his bed was warm with the heat of another body.

Juliana tripped over the hem of her gown. A strong hand reached out to steady her before a drop of wine could be spilt on the stone floor, or on her dress.

"You must be more careful." A deep voice spoke softly in her ear.

Her eyes flew to the face of her new companion and she was startled to find the blonde bearded knight standing next to her. Gawain was his name, and she remembered him clearly from that day in the church. She still had not gotten over the fright of it.

He smiled down at her, his eyes kind and not showing a hint of the man who had cornered her that day. His hand still rested on her arm, just above her elbow, burning her skin with the heat of his touch. His beard had been combed and trimmed for the night's occasion, and Juliana couldn't help but think that he looked quite handsome now.

"Thank you." She whispered, her mouth dry and tongue numb. It was as if she'd forgotten how to speak.

"You are quite welcome," he replied, the smile taking on a teasing quality. "It's not every day that I get to come to the aid of one so beautiful."

Juliana was certain that he'd used that very line on many other women, but that thought did not stop the blush that crept over her face, turning her cheeks the same shade as her hair.

"I…I must get this to the table." She said, her eyes fixated on the jug of wine that she held.

"Jols can do that." He waved to a man in the shadows, who came quickly and took the jug from Juliana's hands.

Gawain's hand slid from her arm. He held the rough, war calloused hand out to her.

"I would be honored if you would join me in a dance." He said gallantly, bowing at the waist.

Juliana stared at him, opened mouth and surprised.

"I…" she stared down at his hand and confessed in a whisper, "I do not know how." She glanced at him through lowered lashes.

He grinned devilishly and leaned close, his lips nearly touching her ear. Juliana tensed at his closeness.

"Then allow me to teach you." He whispered.

> > > > >

Well, I hope this chapter was worth the wait and I hope that you guys liked it. Please review and tell me what you thought. I'm hoping that the next chapter won't take nearly as long to get out. But I'm not making any promises. Anyways, please review.


	20. Chapter 20

Hey y'all. Sorry it took so long for this chapter to be posted, but it's a pivital chapter and I wanted everything to be perfect. Anyways, I hope you like it and I hope it's worth the wait.

PS. I want to thank all of you who reviewed last chapter. There's too many of you to name, but I will respond to all of your (at least those who didn't do annonymous reviews) reviews. Now, on with the chapter.

Chapter Twenty

Juliana stared at Gawain's offered hand. Around her, couples were readying themselves for the next dance.

Her eyes moved to his. There was nothing sinister there, only kindness and a hint of flirtation. Juliana saw nothing to fear within his eyes. And so, hesitantly, she took his hand. His grip was nothing like Galahad's. It was stronger, more confident. But, for some reason, Juliana did not like it better than she liked the way that Galahad held her hand. Gawain placed his arm around Juliana's waist, startling her. She tensed within his hold and loosened the fingers that wrapped around his hand. He chuckled.

"Relax," he whispered, "it's all part of the dance."

Juliana felt the heat rush back into her cheeks. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? She was so embarrassed, how could she act like such a child?

She quickly gripped Gawain's hand again, her own so small within his, and, hesitantly, placed her free hand on his broad shoulder.

The music swelled around them, and Juliana focused her attention on the steps to the dance. Gawain led her patiently, keeping his eyes focused on hers. With each step their bodies moved closer and closer until there was barely a breadth of air between them. Juliana found it difficult to breathe. She'd never been this close to any man besides Galahad. It was a different feeling, being close to Gawain, one that she wasn't certain how she felt about.

They danced around the room, letting the music flow around them. Juliana focused all her attention on the dance. She didn't want even the smallest part of her mind to wander. For if it did she was certain that it would lead to thoughts she did not want in her mind. Thoughts of a certain knight with mischievous eyes and a warm smile that she could fall so easily in to.

The music ended, but Gawain still held her firmly. Juliana fought against the desire to push away from him, uncertain of what he would do if she did. Another dance started and Gawain, once more, began to lead her through the steps.

Juliana's cheeks flushed with the heat of the room and the exertion of dancing, and, coupled with the heady scents of wine and flowers, she began to feel dizzy. She stumbled.

"Are you all right?" Gawain asked, catching her easily. His brow was furrowed in worry, and his eyes searched hers.

"I'm…I'm just a bit faint is all." Juliana replied, placing a trembling hand to her heated forehead. "I think I will just go outside for a moment."

She stepped away from Gawain, her footsteps unsteady. He placed a hand on her elbow to support her. Juliana steadied herself before smiling up at Gawain.

"I think I'm fine to walk now." She said, walking away before he could think to come with her.

> > > > >

Juliana wandered out into the garden, the early winter breeze cooling her heated skin instantly. The moon overhead was full and bright, casting pale blue light over the flowers that were still hearty enough to remain in bloom. Stars twinkled in the ebony sky like diamonds upon coal, their light only adding to the beauty that surrounded her.

Feeling like a young girl again, Juliana raised her arms above her head and twirled in circles, letting the light of the moon and stars run over her body like the water of a cool stream. Juliana's hair flew about her like the flame of a torch. She felt giddy and happy and as if nothing existed but her and that garden. The troubles that surrounded her no longer existed, they were demolished by the beauty and serenity of the garden.

The crickets joined in with the music that spilled from the hall and Juliana was swept into the glorious sound. She found herself humming along, though she'd never before heard the song.

She continued to twirl, her skirts billowing out around her. If only Mother Superior could see her now, she would certainly know that Juliana could make it in this world, that she had not been beat. Juliana wished that she could throw the fact that she could survive into the old hag's face. Mother Superior had thought Juliana would come crawling back to the church, but Juliana had no such thoughts or notions. She would not return to the church, even if Mother Superior were on her hands and knees begging Juliana. No. Freedom, despite the heartache that Juliana suffered, tasted so much better.

A laugh bubbled up in Juliana's throat and she allowed it to pour from her lips. The sound of her laughter flowed together with that of the music and the crickets, creating a symphony within the garden.

Juliana closed her eyes and continued to spin, letting the magnificence of the night engulf her.

A twig snapped somewhere off to her right, and Juliana froze. The spell of the night was broken. Her cheeks flushed with fiery embarrassment and her arms fell instantly to her sides. She turned slowly to see what, or who, had made the noise. Juliana's heart stopped as her eyes met Galahad's. What was he doing out here? He should have been with the wench she'd seen him with at the tavern. Juliana didn't wish to see him, not now, not ever. But yet, there he stood, his dark, somber eyes reflecting the light of the moon, making them even more alluring.

They stood in silence. Neither speaking, both staring. Juliana's breathing came faster, harder as her pulse raced. He looked so handsome in the moonlight. And, despite herself, Juliana found her heart aching for him, her fingers itching to wrap themselves within his glorious curls, and her mouth watering for his taste.

"Juliana?" His voice rang in the deafening silence. He reached towards her, as if to take her in his arms. But Juliana could not allow herself to fall into his arms. For to do so would be to forget all the hurt that he had caused her.

The music from inside the hall suddenly died, leaving only the crickets to carry on the dance, and casting the garden into an eerie silence. Juliana breathed in deeply, wishing her heart would not beat so loudly.

"I…" her eyes searched the garden for an escape. "I have to go." She made a move to leave, but his hand quickly wrapped around her arm, stopping her attempt.

"Wait." Galahad pleaded with her. "Please, just let me say something before you run away."

Juliana dropped her gaze, suddenly finding her silk slippers fascinating. Galahad sighed, his grip loosening.

"Never mind," he said, his hand falling to his side. "Go. Go back and join the party."

Juliana moved to leave then paused. He looked so sad, standing there with his shoulders slumped and his head hung. The look of defeat within his eyes was too much for Juliana to bear. Her heart went out to him and she found her feet moving back in his direction.

She stood beside him, not sure of what to say.

_Lord, grant me strength,_ she prayed. _Put the words in my mouth to speak._

The silence seemed to stretch on forever before Juliana finally spoke.

"Why?"

Startled by her question, his eyes flew to hers.

"Why?" She repeated. "Why did you say you loved me?"

"Because I do." He confessed, his eyes securely on hers. "And I know I made a mistake running to Zephaniah when you didn't return my feelings. I have been beating myself every day for that decision." He continued in a rush. "But I was hurt- my pride was hurt."

"I didn't meant to cause you pain." Juliana replied softly. "I…I was scared. Not of you, but of my own feelings." Her cheeks colored at the confession.

Galahad's eyes glimmered with hope at her words. He reached for Juliana's hand and she let him take it. Juliana drew strength from his firm grip. And she needed that strength so desperately if she was to continue.

"I love you, Galahad." She whispered, her gaze never leaving his. "I have for so long, but I was too scared to confess it. Especially to myself."

Galahad pulled her close to him, his eyes shimmering with happiness.

"You do not know how I have longed to hear those words." He spoke quietly, his breath hot on her lips. Juliana trembled. His mouth was so close to hers and she desperately wished for him to press his lips against hers.

But she had no need to wish. For as soon as the thought entered her mind, Galahad's mouth crashed against hers in a loving and passionate kiss.

Juliana's knees buckled beneath the force of the kiss, and she was grateful for the arm that Galahad wrapped around her waist.

A loud cheer erupted through the garden. Startled, Juliana pulled away from Galahad's kiss and threw a look about the garden.

"What was that?" Galahad, too, was looking for the source of the noise.

Suddenly, Juliana burst into laughter. Of course, how could she have been so foolish.

Galahad stared at her as if she had grown another head.

"What are you laughing at?" He asked.

"I'm laughing at myself." She said between fits of laughter. At Galahad's perplexed expression Juliana's laughter only doubled.

"I'd forgotten," she said once she'd calmed, "that the King and Queen were announcing that they are with child."

"Arthur and Guinevere…they're…" Galahad let out a crow of approval and cheer. "Why that's wonderful news." He said, pulling Juliana back to him and kissing her soundly. "Very good news indeed."

Juliana laughed, but quickly sobered as Galahad wrapped her tightly in his arms. His chest was strong against hers, his heart beating in sync with her own.

"I supposed then," he continued, his voice low and seductive, "that we're not the only ones with good news tonight."

Juliana could only shake her head, too mesmerized by Galahad's eyes to say anything. With a feral smile, Galahad caught her lips in a kiss that could only be described as earth shattering.

**> > > > > **

So, what did y'all think? Please review and share your thoughts with me.


	21. Chapter 21

Hey y'all. Sorry it took me so long to update this. I apologize profusely. I know that you all have been anxious to see what happens and I have taken too long to post this chapter. Again, I am sorry.

I want to thank all of you who reviewed last chapter. There's too many of you to name, but just know that I appreciate it. Usually I would send out individual thank you's to everybody, but right now I am very pressed for time and am unable to do that. However, next chapter I will send out each thank you.

Now, I know that y'all are tired of reading my author's note, so now, I will let you go and read the story. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-one

Juliana brushed the hair out of her eyes; her fingers streaking the pale skin of her forehead with dirt. She knelt and continued her gardening. The soil was still warm, despite the chill of winter in the air, and damp. Juliana relished in the way the earth surrounded her hands and squished between her fingers as she dug out the few vegetables remaining in the garden.

She hummed quietly as she tossed vegetable after vegetable into the basket at her side. A faint smile pulled at her lips as she recognized the song as one she'd heard the night before. In fact, it had been the song playing just before she and Galahad kissed. Juliana's smile widened at the thought of that night and the kisses they had shared.

Since that night, Juliana had been going through the hours in a dream-like state. Things were more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. Her heart was mended and she was now with the man she loved. What could be more perfect?

"A more beautiful sight I've never seen."

Juliana started at the sound of the familiar voice. She whipped her head around, beaming. Galahad stood behind her, white teeth showing behind his dark beard in a smile that matched her own. Juliana stood and quickly walked the short distance between them. She threw her arms around Galahad and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his rich scent. He laughed and wrapped his arms about her waist, holding her tightly against him. His lips covered her hair and the top of her head in kisses, and Juliana smiled.

_So this is love_, she thought as she gently laid a kiss on Galahad's neck, feeling his pulse pound beneath her lips. _Never in a million years would I have thought it would be so wonderful._

* * *

Galahad wiped the sweat from his brow and lifted his sword up to parry the blow that Bors aimed at his neck. The edges of their blunt swords crashed together, sending a jolt up Galahad's arm and a loud _clang _echoing through the air. A loud cry rose from Bors' children, who had gathered to watch the fight. They cheered their father on, while taunting Galahad in the process. 

The fight continued on for endless minutes, neither knight gaining the upper hand. Until, finally, Galahad spotted a fault in Bors' movements and quickly brought his sword up under the other knight's, effectively knocking the sword from his opponent's hand.

The two friends stood panting in the center of the practice ring, both tired from their battle. The sound of clapping carried to Galahad's ears and he turned to see Juliana standing at the fence, a basket of laundry resting at her feet and a wide smile on her face. Grinning, Galahad made his way towards her.

"Come to watch my victory, have you?" He asked, leaning against the fence.

"Oh yes indeed," Juliana smirked. "It's not everyday I see you actually win a fight."

Galahad laughed loudly and reached for her over the fence.

"Come here you and let me show you how we punish people for their insolence." He pulled Juliana towards him and kissed her soundly. It felt wonderful to be able to kiss her as he wished without having to hide his love for her. Galahad had never felt so free in his life.

With a chuckle, Juliana pulled away from him, her eyes shining with love.

"Tell me, "she whispered, leaning her forehead against his, "if I continue to insult you, will this always be the punishment?"

"Oh yes," Galahad replied with a smirk, "this," he kissed her quickly, then added in a husky whisper, "and so much more."

Juliana pulled away from him, a frown on her face and her cheeks coloring at his insinuation.

"Galahad," she said, her tone serious, "just because I have left the church does not mean that I have forgotten my faith or my beliefs. I will not share a bed with a man unless that man is my husband."

Galahad dropped his eyes from hers and looked down at his boots. He had known not to say what he had, and yet he had said it anyway. He couldn't help himself. Juliana stirred his blood in a way that no other woman ever had. He wanted her in his bed; he wanted to show her just how good love could feel. He had known that he would be pushing her if he made any mention of them having a more…intimate relationship. But he loved Juliana so much and he wanted to show her that love.

Any normal man would have just taken her by now without a thought to her wishes. At least Galahad was giving her the choice of coming to his bed. Why wasn't that what Juliana saw? Why, instead, did she have to focus on the fact that he was even asking her to break from her convictions? Did she not love him as deeply as he loved her? Was that why she resisted him?

Galahad remembered clearly the night of the harvest festival. Juliana had nearly given herself to him then. They had been so close to fulfilling the actions that Galahad dreamed of. If only he could make Juliana feel now the way that she had that night. Perhaps than she would be more willing to enter his bed.

_No_, Galahad mentally shook himself; _I will not trick Juliana into this. If she truly loves me than she will eventually give herself to me._ And when she did that, Galahad had no doubt in his mind that it would be the sweetest love making he had ever had.

* * *

She had gone to the market for her mother and, on her way back had decided to surprise Galahad with a visit. He had been testy the night before at the party, and Zephaniah wanted to make sure that things were right between them once more. But as she had turned the corner to make her way towards the practice yard where she knew Galahad would be, she stumbled upon a sight that she wished she'd never seen. 

Zephaniah stood in the shadows as Galahad kissed Guinevere's new maid. Red hot anger flowed through her veins. What right did Galahad have to kiss another woman when it was Zephaniah who shared his bed at night?

Perfect red lips turned down in a frown, Zephaniah watched as the maid pulled away from Galahad. The scene was so sickening Zephaniah could feel her stomach revolting. In fact, the nausea was so intense; it was all she could do to keep from vomiting right then and there. She placed a work calloused hand over her stomach, shocked that the nausea was so extreme. A thin sheen of sweat broke out over her forehead and Zephaniah could no longer hold back the bile that rose in her throat.

She turned from the scene in front of her and emptied her stomach into the bushes that lay against the side of Arthur's home.

When the nausea finally passed, Zephaniah stood on shaky legs and wiped a hand across her mouth. She turned back towards the training yard. The maid was gone and Galahad was back to practicing with Bors, a disgruntled look upon his face and anger fueling his attack. At the fury with which he attacked, Zephaniah could not help but wonder what had passed between the knight and the maid while she had not been looking.

* * *

So, what did you guys think? Please review and share your thoughts and opinions with me.

PS. Sorry it's so short.


	22. Chapter 22

Wow, so it's been awhile since I last updated this story. I apologize profusely for that. Anyways, I want to thank those of you who reviewed last chapter, I don't have time to name you all, but know that I truly appreciate it.

Chapter Twenty-two

Galahad paced in front of Juliana's door, trying to decide whether or not to knock. It had been nearly three days since their argument and neither had yet to try and make amends. The guilt that filled Galahad had intensified over the days, and he felt horrible for making Juliana believe that all he wished was to lie with her.

With a heavy sigh, he raised a fist and knocked soundly upon the wooden door. Nobody answered. Galahad knocked again, his resolve faltering as the door continued to go unanswered. Tentatively, he pushed at the door, it slowly swung open with a slight squeal of protest.

His eyes swept the room, finding it completely empty. Galahad began to worry, his mind ran with thoughts of where Juliana might possibly be. Stepping into the room, Galahad decided to further explore. Perhaps she was in the dressing area and had not heard him. Galahad looked towards the door that led into the dressing and bathing room and found that it was open just enough to see into the other room. He stepped towards the door, his heavy footsteps muffled by the animal skin rug.

A thin stream of candlelight filtered through the partially open door, gently illuminating the small room. As he looked through the crack, Galahad's breath caught in his throat. There, sitting in the wooden tub, sat Juliana, her bare back towards the door and her ivory skin glowing in the candlelight. Her hair tumbled down her back in a mass of red ringlets, the copper curls looking as alluring in the light of the candle as that of the moon. Galahad's memories shifted to the first night that he had seen Juliana in the garden, her hair loose and her skin glowing in the moonlight.

As Juliana washed her skin, Galahad felt his attraction to her growing. Who knew that something as simple as bathing could be so graceful. He continued to watch her, not knowing that what he was doing was wrong. Galahad could not turn his eyes from her, Juliana's body was so beautiful and so…enchanting that he was drawn to her image.

She gently pulled her hair over her left shoulder, revealing the succulent skin of her right shoulder to him. Galahad's heart jumped into his throat. She was such a beautiful woman.

It wasn't until Juliana lifted her body from the tub and wrapped herself in a dressing robe, hiding her beautiful form from his eyes, that Galahad's mind finally returned to him and he swiftly left the room.

Closing the door gently behind him, Galahad leaned up against the polished wood, breathing deeply to try and still his rapidly beating heart. Placing his head in his hand, Galahad wept, his emotions finally becoming too much for him to handle. Had their fight ruined his chances to be with Juliana, the most beautiful woman he had ever known and the _only_ woman he had ever loved.

* * *

She stared at her plate, none of the food looking the least bit appetizing. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as she stared down at the hard bread and still bloody meat.

"Juliana, are you all right?" The soft voice of Guinevere came from just behind her. Juliana looked up at the queen, her sad eyes betraying the emotions that ran through her.

Ever since the fight with Galahad, Juliana had been unable to concentrate on anything. And constantly she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

_Is this what I left the Church for?_ She couldn't help but wonder every time she remembered the pain that coursed through her heart. _Is this what I am destined for? To love a man who only wishes to have me in his bed?_ Deep down Juliana knew that Galahad truly loved her, but whenever he allowed the obviously male side of him to rule over his mind, Juliana couldn't help but think what kind of life they could possibly have together. Surely they both loved each other, but what kind of life would they have together if all they had was love? Galahad shared known of Juliana's beliefs, and she knew, deep in her soul, that a relationship without mutual beliefs could never last.

"Yes," she replied softly, "I'm all right." She turned back to the food that sat before her as Guinevere silently left Juliana's bed chamber, where she had locked herself away after another horrible day of avoiding Galahad.

Oh how she wished it hadn't had to come to this. To find love and then, so swiftly, have it taken away. Was this the way God repaid her for all those years she had devoted to serving Him? Would He be so cruel as to take away the one man that she had ever really cared for?

"Oh Lord," she whispered, "why do you do this to me? Why do you put a man in my life who does not share my love for you? Why do you make me love him so much when I know that he does not believe in you?"

Slowly, the tears fell down her face; falling from her chin onto the plate that sat before her. Juliana, so focused on her earnest prayer, did not hear the soft knock on her door.

"Lord, I have done nothing but serve you diligently, I have loved you with all of my heart and yet you do this to me." The tears fell in rapid succession as her prayer became more urgent. "I care for Galahad more than I have ever cared for anyone else in my life. Why do you let me love him so?"

Juliana lifted her face heavenward, hoping that if she directed her cry straight at God that He would hear her.

"I love him, Lord, and yet you will not let us be as one! You placed Galahad in my life and then you take him away again! Why, God, why are you so cruel to me when I have done nothing but serve you with all of my heart?"

Juliana knelt on the floor, weeping as she poured her heart out to God, unaware of the man that stood in the doorway behind her.

* * *

The overpowering scent of hay and horses filled the stable where Galahad stood, gently petting the nose of his own steed. He had come here to clear his head of all the conflicting thoughts that ran through his mind. But his thoughts would not be controlled; they would not conform to any one way of thinking.

He sighed and hung his head, only to have the black mare nudge him with her snout.

"Why is love so confusing?" He asked the mare, who snorted and tossed her head. He sighed and gently rubbed her nose as he continued to talk to himself.

"If only Juliana would understand that I am a man, I have needs that will not be denied. I love her, and I do not wish to hurt her, but she makes my blood boil with just the smallest look." Galahad shook his head.

"If only it weren't for her damned piousness!" He cried. "Then everything would be fine."

"Galahad!" Gawain's voice came from the stable's entrance. Galahad turned to face his old friend, only to have something hard hit against his jaw.

Galahad fell to the ground, pushed down from the force of the blow. He held his jaw, gently rubbing it as he slowly, carefully opened his mouth to make sure that nothing was broken.

"What the hell was that for?" He shouted, looking up at Gawain, who towered over him, a fuming look in his eyes.

"You don't deserve her." Gawain replied mysteriously before turning on his heel and leaving the stable.

* * *

Sorry it was so short you guys. Please review and let me know what you thought. I hope that I can update again soon, but with school and everything I can't make any guarantees. Also, I know that the first scene was kinda lame...sorry 'bout that, but I could NOT figure out how to start this chapter so I just kinda wrote it and...well I'm not too happy with it. Okay, I'm going to stop typing this now and go and get started on the next chapter. Until next time...Ciao :) 


	23. Chapter 23

I wanna thank all you guys who reviewed last chapter. I really appreciate your reviews and your patience with me while I take my time writing this story. Thank you all.

Chapter Twenty- three

Staring into the still water at the bruise that highlighted his dark beard, Galahad gently rubbed his jaw. Even after a day, the pain still pounded inside his head. With a growl, Galahad punched at the lake, distorting his image.

_You don't deserve her_. What had Gawain meant by that cryptic remark? Could he have been speaking of Juliana? No, of course not. After all, why would Gawain care about Juliana? She was nothing more than a handmaid who had once been a nun. No, Gawain must have been speaking of Zephaniah. She was the only woman that Gawain possibly could have been speaking of. She was the only woman that would have drawn his attention. Gawain cared not for pious women; he cared only for the women that could warm his bed.

But why would Gawain be thinking of Zephaniah? Surely he knew all the troubles that the woman had caused Galahad.

Falling onto the soft grass, Galahad dropped his head in his hands. It was all just too much for him. There were too many things flowing through his mind at once. He could not process them all.

_You don't deserve her._ The words echoed in Galahad's mind. Even if Gawain hadn't been speaking of Juliana, Galahad still thought of her as the words attacked him. It was true he didn't deserve Juliana. She was good and kind and everything pure, while he was nothing more than a vile man who wanted her all to himself.

_But she said she loved you._ The small voice in the back of his mind fought to make itself heard over the stronger, more forceful words. _Why would she lie about loving you?_

"Yes, why indeed?" Galahad muttered as he lay back in the grass and stared up at the clear blue sky. He searched for the answer in the wisps of clouds that scurried across his vision. But no answer was to be found.

With an exasperated sigh, Galahad rubbed a weary hand across his face, flinching as his fingers probed the bruise.

The bruise; that was all it took for Galahad's thoughts to once again return to chasing each other around in his mind.

* * *

She sat, mending in hand, staring out the drawing room window. All around her, Guinevere's other maids filled the room with their idle gossip. However, Juliana could not concentrate on anything they said. Her mind was preoccupied with things of a much more serious nature.

Why had Galahad been avoiding her? It had been nearly a week and she had not seen him at all, except for when she served in the Great Hall during meals. And even then his gaze avoided hers. Or was it that her gaze avoided his? Juliana had no way of knowing anymore whom avoided whom. It had all become one giant game of ring-around-the-rosy. They would circle each other, but neither would make the first move.

_Well no more_, Juliana's mind cried. _I will stand for this no longer. If he does not approach me tonight, then I will approach him._

With her mind made up, and her resolve set, Juliana turned from the window and tried to lose herself in the chatter going on around her.

* * *

The intimate setting of the room soothed Juliana as she stood behind Guinevere's seat at the round table. At the other side of the room, seated beside Bors, Juliana could see Galahad. He was involved in an intense discussion with the stockier man, his eyes flashing passionately as he argued his side. Juliana wished that those eyes would look at her, but alas, he kept his attention stubbornly away from her.

With a sigh, Juliana dropped her gaze to the stone floor. It seemed as if she would need to take matters into her own hands. Resigned to what must be done, Juliana prepared herself to confront Galahad as soon as the meal was over.

* * *

He knew she was watching. He would have known it even if he were not watching her out of the corner of his own eyes. Her very presence was intoxicating and it was all Galahad could do to keep his attention focused on Bors and their discussion. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for Galahad to concentrate with Juliana looking so beautiful.

Her long hair fell down her back in its customary braid, the rich copper color catching in the torchlight like a brilliant flame. She wore a simple dress the color of the pine trees that still bore their needles even with the onset of winter. Her pale skin was no longer as creamy as it once was. Instead, her skin now shone with the healthy glow attributed to outside labor.

Galahad had never been drawn to a woman the way he was to Juliana. If only he could overcome his stubbornness and apologize to her.

All he wanted was for things to be back to the way they were on that glorious night when they had confessed their love for each other. Why couldn't things be like that again?

With a sad shake of his head, Galahad forced himself to concentrate on what Bors was saying.

* * *

He left the hall before Guinevere dismissed Juliana for the night. She watched him leave; watched the opportunity to make things right slip between her fingers. Where would she find him this night? Between the sheets with that whore he insisted on keeping company with? Or would he be at the tavern, drinking away his troubles before going to meet his harlot? Either way, Juliana knew that her chance to talk with him that night was gone. Wherever it was that Galahad went, Juliana was certain not to follow. For where else would he go but to some place of sin.

When Guinevere finally released Juliana, the young woman walked numbly down the corridors towards her apartment. Her eyes watched the stone floor pass beneath her as her thoughts wandered to what entertainment Galahad would be finding that night. She dared not dwell on such thoughts, though; as she knew they would only lead her mind to a troubled place. However, that would not stop her imagination (which Mother Superior had always said was far too active) from going to places Juliana wished it not to go. As she tried to clear the unsettling images from her mind, Juliana felt the desperate need for fresh air. She turned in the opposite direction of her rooms and headed, instead, towards the garden.

As she emerged in the moonlight, Juliana felt hot tears begin to burn at the back of her eyes. This was the place where everything had begun; this was where she had first laid eyes upon Galahad and where they had confessed their love. This place would not offer her the solace she wished for.

Choking back a sob, Juliana spun around, ready to flee to her apartment. But a body stood between her and the exit.

* * *

Sorry it's kinda short, but I hope you guys liked it anyways. Please review and let me know what you thought! 


	24. Chapter 24

Sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I have just recenly finished my first year of college (yeah me!) and what a year it was. Unfortunately, all the school work left me little time to write. Thankfully, though, summer is now here and I have all the time I want to write. My goal is to finish this story by the end of the summer, but who knows if I will. Anyways, I want to thank those of you who reviewed last chapter: jenny gryffindork, The EarthSong, Kristen, x californiaCHAOS, TheHollister. Thank you all so much. Your thoughts, opinions, and enthusiasm for my writing is a great joy to me.

Chapter Twenty-four

Tears were falling freely down her beautiful face and it broke his heart to see those tears shining in the moonlight. No woman should ever have to shed a tear, especially not one as beautiful and wonderful as Juliana.

With a cautious hand, so as not to scare her, he reached out and gently brushed the tears away. Her eyes flew to his, wide with shock and fear.

"You shouldn't have to cry over him." He whispered, his heart breaking to see her sadness. "You shouldn't have to suffer like you do."

"Gawain?" His name on her lips sounded so exquisite. She moved as if to say something more, but Gawain laid a gentle finger over her lips.

"Why do you let him hurt you like this?" He asked, his eyes searching hers. "You deserve so much more."

Juliana stepped away from him, shaking her head.

"You don't understand." She whispered. "I love him." Her eyes met his, pleading with him to understand.

And Gawain did understand. He understood all too well.

Juliana had fallen for Galahad and now her heart had no way of getting over him no matter how much pain he had caused her.

Gawain wished that he could help her, that he could somehow ease Juliana's pain. All he could think to do, however, was wrap her in his arms and let her cry out her hurt.

* * *

It was such a beautiful night out that Galahad felt guilty for having such a dark mood. But there was nothing to be done for that. He wandered the garden, allowing the moonlight to guide his path. The heady scent of the flowers filled him, spilling into his lungs and flooding his senses. It was enough to get drunk on, but Galahad did not want his senses dulled tonight. No, tonight he needed all his wits about him for tonight he would apologize to Juliana and make things right between them once more.

Rounding a bend in the path, Galahad spotted a couple in the midst of a soft embrace. He moved to turn back the way he came, not wanting to interrupt their private moment. Just as he turned, the moonlight hit against the woman's face and Galahad stumbled in his steps, anger burning through his veins as he recognized Juliana. And it was none other than his supposed best friend with his arms around the young woman.

Galahad felt the anger burning righteously in his chest, his heart feeling as if it were about to burst. Without thinking about the consequences of his actions, Galahad marched over to the couple.

* * *

She cried into Gawain's shoulder until she felt as if there were no tears left inside of her. Juliana was about to step out of Gawain's comforting arms when he was suddenly pulled away from her. She gasped in surprise and looked up to see who had so rudely ripped them apart.

"Galahad?" She was surprised to see him standing there, his eyes burning harshly in the light of the moon. His knuckles were white as he roughly gripped Gawain's shoulder.

"Galahad, what are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes searching his. Nothing but anger met her gaze.

"I could ask you a similar question." Galahad replied, his voice rough. "Or shall I venture to question why you are here with him?" He shoved Gawain's shoulder roughly.

"Gawain and I were talking, nothing more." Juliana replied, wanting to stop whatever trouble might come. The look on Galahad's face frightened her and she did not want anyone to get hurt.

"Then why were you in his arms?" Galahad cried. He spun Gawain around to face him, using more strength than Juliana remembered him having.

"How can you call yourself friend?" He spat in Gawain's face. "You just waited for the right time to make Juliana yours."

Gawain wiped the spit from his face and turned his gaze on Galahad.

"I did not need to wait for anything," he said, his voice eerily calm. "I have no desire to take what is yours. Perhaps you should ask yourself, though, if Juliana was ever truly yours. You have done a fine job of warming your bed with another while pining away for her. Mayhap you should have kept with Zephaniah instead of hurting Juliana in the way you have."

Galahad's fist flew so fast that Juliana didn't know that he had punched Gawain until the elder knight's head turned with the impact.

"Galahad, stop!" She cried as the two knights fell to the earth in a pile of flying fists, kicking feet, and grunts. "Please just stop!" The tears that she had thought were gone started to slowly trickle down her already-tearstained cheeks. "Please stop."

She stepped away from them, wanting to distance herself. From what she did not know. Perhaps it was to keep from getting hurt physically, or was it to keep from getting hurt emotionally?

As the tears continued to slowly stream down her face, Juliana ran back to her rooms. She did not want to wait around to see the outcome of their foolishness.

* * *

Galahad rubbed his aching jaw as he stretched out across his bed. A new bruise was sure to cover the old one as Gawain had a knack for punching the exact same spot as he had the last time.

Juliana had run from him, had run from the spectacle he was making of himself. He couldn't help it, though. Gawain had pushed him to it. His friend knew better than to taunt him in that way. Gawain knew how much he cared for Juliana; he knew how it killed Galahad to be at odds with the woman he loved.

Galahad sighed; he had truly made a fool of himself.

Sitting up in bed, Galahad stared at his hands. Calloused, weathered they were warrior's hands, and now their knuckles were split and blood was beginning to dry in the wounds. Theses were the hands that had once touched Juliana's soft skin, brushed her hair from her face. They had held her close, caressed her check just before a passionate kiss. Now they were marked with scars from a battle that never should have happened.

Galahad had acted impulsively on his anger, he knew that. His friends had often said that Galahad may be a gentle man on normal days, but when provoked it was like waking the bear from his hibernation. His temper was quick when it involved those he cared about. And the sight that he had wandered upon had certainly provoked his anger. To see Juliana in the arms of another man, and that man his friend, had made Galahad's heart bleed in a way that it never had before. He saw in that instant just what was at stake should he allow his stubbornness to rule him. But he had not acted properly. His temper had bested him and forced him to act without thinking. And now he may have lost Juliana forever. Galahad wished more than anything that he could take back his impulsive actions, but they were over and done with, and now he had to live with them.

_First thing tomorrow I will find Juliana_, he thought, _and I will make amends, once and for all._

* * *

Sorry it's so short y'all. Please review and let me know what you thought! 


	25. Chapter 25

Well folks, it's been awhile, but I _finally_ have updated. Now that I've finally gotten over writer's block I am already starting on the next chapter, so hopefully that'll be up soon. I want to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter. You guys rock! I appreciate all your encouragment. Please accept this chapter as a token of my gratitude. Haha. Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"_You have done a fine job of warming your bed with another while pining away for her. Mayhap you should have kept with Zephaniah instead of hurting Juliana in the way you have."_

Gawain's words rang in Juliana's ears that night as she lay in bed, crying. She had known that Galahad had kept another in his bed; she had known that he'd had more than one woman in his lifetime. But the words still stung. They tore at her heart, reminding her once more of how vastly different their worlds were. She had grown in the world of purity, of gentleness, of love and peace, of putting God before everything else. But Galahad had grown in the world of lust, war, and greed. What sort of future could they have with how different they were?

Her tears formed a pool on the feather pillow before slowly absorbing into the wool. Her face was damp and Juliana didn't need a mirror to know that her eyes were puffy and her nose red.

Things were getting so twisted, so messed up. Juliana wondered if life would have been simpler if she had just stayed a nun. It was not too late. She could go back and beg Mother Superior to take her back. She could do it, she knew she could.

_Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. _

The words of Matthew came to her, jumping to the forefront of her mind as if sent there by God himself.

_Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh._

Juliana clung to God's word as an infant clings to its mother. She repeated it over and over in her mind, letting the words wash over her in a calming wave. These were the words she needed to hear. They replenished her spirit, filling her until she felt as if she would burst.

A smile crept slowly up her face as Juliana lay there, praying to God and drinking in his words. Things would get better. God had promised her.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear and more beautiful than any morning that Juliana had yet seen. Everything about the day seemed accentuated by the lightness of her heart. Today would be different from the others. Today would bring with it God's promise. Juliana only had to wait with a heart of patience and praise and God would deliver all that he had promised to her.

She went about her morning chores with a cheery bounce in her step. All those who encountered her could tell that something had happened, that something had changed the once mournful servant into a blossoming maid.

"What has happened to you, Juliana?" Guinevere asked as Juliana the queen her breakfast. "You seem extremely happy this morning."

"It's simply a blessed day." Juliana replied, refilling the glass in front of her queen with watered down wine. She glanced at the small swell that was beginning to show beneath Guinevere's gown. "How is our little heir today?" She asked.

Guinevere laid a gentle hand on her stomach and smiled.

"He started kicking last night." She replied, her smile so bright and happy that Juliana couldn't help but share in her joy.

"Have you ever thought of having children of your own?" The question caught Juliana off guard, and she faltered in her step.

"I…I don't really know." She stuttered. "I've only ever been a nun and nuns are not exactly permitted to…engage in such acts as would produce a child." Her cheeks flushed with her own words.

"What about now, now that you are no longer bound to the Church?"

"My lady," Juliana set the pitcher she held down on the small table where Guinevere sat, "I would welcome a child given to me by God. But I'm afraid that I cannot marry the man that would potentially father my children. For you see, I cannot marry any man who is not, himself, committed to God."

As she spoke those words, Juliana's joyful mood fled her. Galahad was no man of God, he held no belief in the faith as she did. She could never marry him without guilt tearing at her heart.

_You shall not yoke yourself to an unbeliever._

The scriptures slapped Juliana. Jesus had declared that believers should not marry nonbelievers because they would pull them from God.

_But what if I can pull Galahad? What if it can be the other way?_ She thought. But even as the thoughts entered her mind, Juliana knew they could never happen. The love she bore for Galahad was strong, too strong. She would wish to serve him in the way a wife should, she would wish to please him in any way she could. And, in doing so, she would place him above God.

"Juliana? Juliana, what's wrong?" Guinevere's voice pulled the distraught maid from her thoughts.

"I…I am sorry, my lady," Juliana stammered, "I must go." She fled the room, leaving behind a confused Guinevere.

* * *

"Where is Galahad?" Juliana cornered the first knight she encountered.

"Last I saw he was at the stables." The knight replied. Juliana ran quickly, her feet barely touching the ground in her haste to find him.

"Galahad." She cried as she came near the stables. "Galahad."

His familiar form appeared in the large doorway, his eyes blinking at the sudden burst of light.

"Juliana?"

She came to a halt in front of him, out of breath, her heart hammering inside her chest.

"What's wrong?" His voice was full of worry. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, drawing her a few inches closer to him. "Is Guinevere all right? The baby? Arthur is in the fields with the farmers, I can saddle my horse and find him in only a few minutes."

"Guinevere's fine, as is the baby." Juliana replied, having caught her breath. "But I am not."

"If it is about last night, Juliana, I have never been more sorry in my life. I never wished to hurt you, I love you. But to see you in Gawain's arms, you have to know how that made me feel. Juliana…"

"It is not about last night." Juliana cut him off. "It's not about anything you've done in the past."

"Then what is it?"

"It is what you have not done." Juliana reached for his hand and pulled him back into the stable. She sat down on a mound of hay near the door and pulled Galahad down next to her.

"You know I love you, Galahad. I want to be with you, in every way that God intended." She blushed at her words, embarrassed to continue. But she knew she had to press on. "I wish nothing more than to be one with you, to share your bed at night, to bear your children."

Galahad gently brushed the hair from Juliana's face, his soft caress weakening her defenses.

"But I cannot do that, Galahad."

Her words halted his caress. She looked up at him through tear filled eyes.

"God said that believers should not yoke themselves to nonbelievers. Galahad, even if you would one day wish to make me your wife, we cannot marry. God would view it as a sin, and I would feel guilt every day for having defied Him."

The tears choked her, making it difficult to say the words she needed to say.

"I think it would be for the best if we no longer had any contact. To continue in the way that we are can only lead to sin. Please, Galahad, if you love me do not talk to me again."

With the tears streaming from her eyes, Juliana fled the stable. Too afraid to look back and see Galahad sitting on the hay, tears glistening in his own eyes.

* * *

Well, what'd ya'll think? I know the last chapter seems a bit out of place, but trust me, it is where it's supposed to be. I'll explain the scene in more detail in the next chapter. In the mean time, please review and let me know what you thought.


	26. Chapter 26

I told ya'll the next chapter would be out soon. And guess what...it's here! Haha. A special thanks to all you who reviewed last chapter. You guys rock!

Chapter Twenty-Six

Since the moment that Juliana had left him in the stable, Galahad knew that his life would never be the same again. Just as she had changed his life when he had stumbled out of the bar that night, she had changed it yet again by walking away from him. All that he saw now was the back of her, copper hair swinging lifelessly in its braid as she walked away. This was not like one of their arguments, their disagreements. Juliana had walked out on him for good this time. There would be no heart felt "I'm sorry"; there would be no tender embrace as they forgave each other. There would be nothing but empty arms and hearts.

As her figure disappeared from sight, Galahad swore loudly. He punched the mound of hay on which he sat, taking his aggression, his anger, out on the lifeless thing as if the hay could have somehow kept Juliana from leaving him in this state. The tears streamed rapidly down his face, catching in his beard. How could she do this to him? She loved him; she had confessed it on more than one occasion. It was her damned god, the one who sought everything from her, that kept Juliana from Galahad. The distraught knight threw his curses to Juliana's god, damning the faith that would keep Juliana from being Galahad's.

"Why do you demand her?" He shouted at the stable's rafters as if they housed Juliana's unseen god. "Why do you not let me have her? Is she so pure that you would ripe us apart to keep me from tainting her?"

His anger weighed heavily on his shoulders, and Galahad fell to his knees, his eyes still on the rafters as he continued to shout and curse at the god that would keep Galahad from the only woman he had ever truly loved.

* * *

The days seemed to wear on so slowly that Juliana felt as if God had ordered time to slow. So lost in her misery over what she had had to do to both Galahad and herself, Juliana plodded through the days as if in a trance. She spoke to no one save Guinevere and she remained dared not to enter any room or area of the grounds where she knew Galahad would be. The majority of her time was spent in either the queen's or Juliana's own rooms. She dared not to venture to the gardens lest Galahad should be there, waiting for her.

People began to whisper about her, saying that the gods were having their revenge upon the Church of Rome by slowly sucking the very soul out of one of the Church's own. The large purple and black circles that had taken up residence beneath Juliana's eyes announced the little rest that she was finding. And the constant redness of her eyes gave tell of the nights that she spent crying. Being away from Galahad, away from his love and gentle caress, was taking its toll on Juliana's spirit. She was finding it difficult simply to get through the day without wishing and praying that God would simply release her from the conviction she felt and allow her to be with Galahad once again. Any small inkling of hope that would touch her soul was quickly bashed away by Juliana. She knew that Satan was testing her to see how far away from God she would stray. She knew that if she did not put her thoughts of Galahad away that she would eventually cave and return to him, allowing Satan to rule in her heart. And Juliana could not allow that. Thus she lived her days in agony as she continued to pray to God to soften Galahad's heart towards the Lord's love so that the young knight might know what it is to be truly saved and loved. It was only under those conditions that Juliana knew that they could be together again.

Winter came, the bitter cold months bringing a new obstacle to Juliana's attempts to avoid Galahad. The entire Court, having been snowed in was in tight quarters until the first thaw of spring. It was within the winter months that Juliana barricaded herself in her chambers, coming out only when Guinevere had need of her. She had numerous close encounters with Galahad, but always she fled before he could speak to her.

The arrival of spring heralded a release from the tight confines of the court. It also brought with it a different Juliana.

Juliana had slowly become a ghost of herself during those long winter months and, despite Guinevere's trying, now would not leave the shelter of Arthur's court. Her skin had grown pale and sallow and she had a haunted look to her eyes. In all her twenty-one years of life, Juliana had never known pain as she was feeling in those months. Her heart felt as if someone had torn it from her breast; all that was left was the gaping hole where it had once belonged.

"Juliana," a young woman, no older than eighteen winters, ran into Juliana's chambers hurriedly. "Juliana, come quick, the queen is in pain!"

Juliana turned from the window that she had been staring out of longingly. The eight months which she had spent within these walls had felt worse than any time she had spent at the convent. Her hallow eyes stared at the young messenger before her as her mind slowly took in the words.

"Is she in labor?" Juliana questioned.

"I…I think she might." The girl stuttered in reply, unnerved by the stare directed at her. "She is screaming something awful. The king is pacing like mad and will not let anyone but you into the room with them."

Moving faster than she had in months, Juliana hurried past the girl and flew down the hall towards Guinevere's chambers.

"Step aside." She ordered the guard that stood outside of the room. A pitiful wail filled the hall as the queen called out in pain. The guard quickly moved, allowing Juliana entrance.

"My lady," Juliana rushed into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her. She hurried to Guinevere's bedside and gripped the woman's sweat slick hand. Lying on the bed, Guinevere was paler than even Juliana. Her dark hair covered the pillows in damp curls. Her breathing was labored and face contorted as another pain shot through her. She screamed, gripping Juliana's hand so tightly in hers that the young woman felt as if her fingers would snap.

"Breathe, Guinevere." Juliana calmly ordered the pained queen. She gently wiped the hair off Guinevere's forehead, her fingers becoming coated in sweat. "You must breathe or the pains will be worse."

Behind her, Juliana sensed Arthur pacing the length of the room. He had not acknowledged Juliana when she entered, but had meekly moved away from his wife's bedside so that Juliana could try and give comfort where Arthur could not.

"I think it is time to call for the midwife." Juliana said, her voice rose slightly so as to be heard over Guinevere's pained breathing.

The midwife was sent for and a stout woman, her gray and thinning hair piled sharply atop her head and who was missing five of her yellow teeth arrived barely fifteen minutes later. She was panting with the exertion that running to the queen's chambers had caused, but she took no time to catch her breath as she immediately started ordering Juliana around and pushed Arthur roughly out of the room.

The day drug on as Juliana did whatever Octavia, the midwife, ordered her to do. She fetched water, placed cooling clothes on Guinevere's forehead, held the poor woman's hand as she suffered through contractions, and relayed news to Arthur who had resumed his pacing in front of Guinevere's door.

As the sun gently kissed the horizon later that afternoon, a pitiful wail filled the room and Juliana held the young prince out to his mother. Watching Guinevere with her new born son, Juliana couldn't stop the wanting that filled her. Arthur entered the room and rushed to his wife's side. As the happy family greeted their new child, Juliana felt an unstoppable yearning take root in her breast. This was what she wanted: a family, a husband and child who loved her as much as she loved them. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered how she had thrown away that chance the se

cond that she turned her back on Galahad.

_Go to him_.

The voice carried in the wind that ruffled the bed hangings. All her years Juliana had dreamed of hearing God's voice, wondered what he would say to her. And now she knew.

_Go to him. Show him the love that I show you. _

Juliana closed her eyes, drinking in the words. No matter how much she wished that these were God's words, doubt assailed her. Could it be simply her own longing that bade her to go to Galahad?

_Show him love, pure as the love I give you._

This was surely God speaking. Satan would cry for another love to be shown. Only God would ask her to show love in the purest sense possible.

Her mind made up, Juliana stole silently from the room, leaving the new family to rejoice in private.

* * *

The news had traveled throughout the court, there was an heir to Camelot's throne. Galahad looked up from brushing the straw from his mare's coat to listen to the messenger sent to deliver the news to everyone he could find. Happy for his king and queen, Galahad couldn't help but feel resentful that they had something that he wished he could. But Juliana had stolen that from him. He knew that Juliana was the only woman he could possibly have wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And now that Juliana no longer wanted anything to do with him, Galahad was certain he would never have a wife or children of his own.

"Galahad?" A familiar voice tore him from his bitter thoughts. Galahad turned slowly to see her standing in the door of the stable. He hadn't laid eyes on her for so long and his heart sped up as she slowly walked towards him.

* * *

Well, what did you guys think? Review and let me know. The next chapter should be up soon as I am so jam-packed with ideas right now that I am just bursting to write them all down. A little hint for how to get the next chapter up sooner: REVIEW!


	27. Chapter 27

After almost a year, I have _finally_ updated! Please review and let me know what you think.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Zephaniah? What are you…You've been gone…" Galahad could not comprehend what he was seeing. He had not seen the young woman in over eight months and now she was standing in front of him, a basket draped over her arm. It was odd seeing Zephaniah after all these months. The original attraction that Galahad had for her was now gone in the wake of his love for Juliana.

Her eyes moved over his face, drinking in his features, before resting on the hay strewn floor.

"There is something I must tell you." She whispered, her eyes downcast as if ashamed by something. She shifted the basket on her arm, and Galahad noticed that there was a rather large bundle hidden beneath the cloth that covered the basket.

"There's a reason I've been gone so long." Zephaniah continued. She played with the edge of the cloth.

"What?" Curiosity was getting the better of Galahad, and patience had never been one of his strong suits.

"There's someone you have to meet, Galahad." Zephaniah said, her eyes finally meeting his. She lifted up the cloth. "I want you to meet…your son."

* * *

Juliana hurried towards the stables, knowing that that was where she would find Galahad. She had been stubborn for far too long. Seeing Guinevere with her husband and new born child had been the push that Juliana needed to finally get past her stubbornness and realize that the life she wished for was within her grasp if only she would reach for it. Galahad was more than she could ever have hoped for herself, but she had been too wrapped up in her old life to see that. She loved him more than she thought she could ever love someone and now it was time to make that love known.

Nothing would stop her this time. This time she was going to let Galahad into her life completely. True he was not a Christian and did not even care to know God, but Juliana was certain that that would change. She could bring him to God. Was that not her reason for being in Camelot in the first place? And who better to bring a man to Christ than his own wife? Juliana was ready for the task. She could be both wife and believe. And, given time, Galahad would come to believe as she did. Of that Juliana had no doubt.

Pausing outside of the stable, Juliana checked her reflection in the rain barrel. Loose strands of hair clung to her sweat drenched brow. There was nothing to be done about that now. Quickly tucking the hair behind her ear, Juliana straightened her skirts and walked slowly to the stable door. She did not want to appear in a rush to see Galahad.

The sound of voices gave Juliana pause. A distinctly feminine voice wafted out the door. There was something vaguely familiar about the voice. Something that did not set right with Juliana. A voice that Juliana knew to be Galahad's joined the woman's and Juliana could feel her heart beating roughly inside her chest. What were they conversing about? Galahad's voice sounded strained and the woman's sounded no better. Then she heard it, the word that, just a few moments ago had given Arthur such joy. Son. But this was no royal heir. No, this son was Galahad's. And Juliana knew who the woman was.

Eyes burning with tears that would not fall, Juliana backed slowly away from the stable doors, careful not to make a sound as she made her retreat. When she was at a safe enough distance, Juliana let her feet carry her as swiftly as they pleased away from the courtyard and the final barrier between herself and Galahad.

* * *

Son. The word echoed through Galahad's thoughts. He had a son. The very idea was a crushing blow, but that blow was nothing compared to the sight of his child. The infant, barely a month old, lay peacefully asleep in the basket. His pale skin a beacon in the dim light of the stable. A few dark wisps of hair were curling atop his head. Galahad knew, without a doubt, that this was his child. He couldn't help wishing, however, that this was nothing more than a dream, a nightmare that he would soon wake from.

He continued to stare at the child. It's little fist waved in sleep, rubbing it's tightly closed eyes. Despite himself, Galahad felt his heart yearn to hold the little boy; his arms ached to feel his son's weight in his arms.

As if she could read his thoughts, Zephaniah held the basket out to him.

"Would you like to hold him?" She asked, a nervous smile on her lips. Galahad tore his eyes from the child to the mother. He nodded and with shaky arms reached for the child.

Cradling the child in his arms, Galahad held him as if he would break at the slightest touch.

"His name is Aaron." Zephaniah said.

"Hello, Aaron." Galahad whispered to his son. The child stirred in his arms, little eyelids fluttered open and pale blue eyes stared back at him. Galahad felt his heart stirring as he looked into those eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. A lump formed in his throat.

Not until he'd met Juliana had Galahad ever wished for a son. Now he had a son, but the mother was the wrong woman. Galahad wished that he could erase his past mistakes and that, when he looked up, it would be Juliana smiling at him and not Zephaniah. But Galahad had no hope in wishing, his mistakes were there in front of him, in his arms and standing before him.

Closing his eyes, Galahad forced the bitterness to leave his heart. But it would not budge, the bitterness was there to stay, stuck, in his chest as a constant reminder that he had ruined any chance of happiness for himself.

"Take him." Galahad thrust the child back to Zephaniah, his bitterness seeping into his words. Zephaniah's eyes filled with tears as she took his actions as rejection of their child. But rejection was the last thing on Galahad's mind. He wanted nothing more than to take his son back in his arms and never let him go. But that could not be. Galahad was punishing himself for his stupid actions and it would go against his punishment for him to continue to hold his son.

Zephaniah could not read his thoughts, however, and she fled the stable with unshed tears in her eyes, Aaron's basket held protectively in front of her.

Galahad swore loudly as she disappeared. The anger boiled inside of him and he kicked at a stack of hay. His mind in turmoil, he fell onto the hay feeling it poke into his back and scratch his unprotected arms. Aaron's face floated in his mind's eye. The child was so innocent, it didn't deserve the life of a bastard. Galahad sat up and dropped his head in his hands. There was no end to the thoughts that warred within his mind. What was he supposed to do? Should he claim Aaron as his son or leave the child and Zephaniah alone? Should he marry Zephaniah? And what about Juliana? What was going to happen to her, what would she think, when she found out Galahad had a son?

Pain – emotional, physical, and spiritual – consumed Galahad. What was he going to do?

* * *

The church doors loomed large. Like Roman sentries guarding the emperor, they stood, blocking the way to the last ray of hope in a dark world. Once holding only love and comfort, these doors now were a symbol of failure. Her failure.

Her whole sojourn into life outside the convent had been a mistake.

Mistake. Failure.

The words echoed in her thoughts. She was a failure, that much was true. She had ventured out into the world, hoping beyond hope that she could change the man she had come to love. But it had not happened. Instead he had fathered a child with a woman who was not Juliana. More than anything, Juliana wished that she could have been the one to carry Galahad's child. She wanted that, she wanted to be a mother, a wife. And she wanted her husband, the father of her children, to be Galahad. But that couldn't be, not now. Juliana was convinced, now more than ever, that she would never be with Galahad. He had a commitment to make, and that commitment was to another woman.

The time for dreaming and hoping was over. Taking a determined step towards the doors, Juliana opened them slowly. It was time to face reality and own up to her mistakes. It was time to return to her rightful place.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tears spilled from Juliana's eyes as she sat on the open plain. The clouds overhead were grey with the threat of rain, the overcast sky mirroring Juliana's pain.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't return to the convent.

Walking into the church had been a painful experience, knowing that all eyes were on her, judging her. The air had felt stifling, more so because of the whispers that she could hear as she made her way towards Mother Superior's rooms. The overbearing woman, whose ample size had once cut a motherly figure to Juliana, now looked like an overlord awaiting the chance to call judgment upon the head of an unruly servant. Her stern gaze had pierced straight through Juliana, unwilling to see the hurt inside the girl, only wanting to see the shame she had brought upon the church.

It had been nearly a year since Juliana had left the church, and she had not stepped inside its walls till then. Now, being back in the place where she had once felt so loved and at home, she felt as if she were walking into a prison. There was no light, no color, and no life inside those walls. Even if Mother Superior had welcomed Juliana back with open arms, the girl knew that she never would have been able to accept. She had made her choice, and now she must stick by her decision despite its consequences.

Despite knowing that she could never return to the convent, Mother Superior's words had cut through Juliana like a freshly sharpened blade. Each rebuke, each harsh reprimand had sliced through Juliana's heart and soul. She felt like a child again, being reprimanded for eating the leftover communion bread. But these reprimands, these scoldings, were so much harsher than any Juliana had received before. She had fled the church as quickly as her pride would allow her, head held high and tears fighting to break free. Once the heavy doors had closed behind her, Juliana had run as fast as she could to the one place where she felt totally and completely free.

The great open plains beckoned to her, calling her into their welcoming embrace. It was here that she allowed all the tears to fall. Tears for the future that she and Galahad would never have, tears for the loss of a home she had once loved. They fell freely, soaking into the earth. Juliana had no concept of time; she knew not how long she sat there, her body shaking with heavy sobs.

The skies opened up and released their downpour, and still Juliana sat there. She felt the cool rain on her skin, felt the water soaking through her clothes.

How could God do this to her? How could He lead her to believe that she and Galahad could have a future together and then take it away in one instant? Why was He being so cruel to her when all she ever wanted was to please Him? Juliana had spent her entire life loving and serving God and never asking anything in return. Why did God deny her the one thing she ever wanted?

Rain continued to pour down from the heavens. Juliana could feel her body growing numb with the chill. But she refused to move. She had nothing now, no man to love her, no home, no family, no future. What use was there in remaining? If God wanted her so badly He could take her now. Why make her suffer out the rest of her years in a place where she could have no hope?

Strong arms embraced Juliana, picking her up as gently as if she were a newborn babe. They cradled her softly against a broad chest. Juliana nestled her face into the wet shirt, her tears making no difference to the already soaked fabric. Her arms snaked around the strong neck as the body carried her back towards the town. She allowed the person to carry her, making no fuss, not fighting against them. All the fight was gone from her now. What was there to fight for anyway?

The rain stopped pelting her, and she felt herself being placed on a soft surface.

"Let's get her out of these clothes." The voice floated above her, detached and distant.

"She's going to catch a chill." Another voice joined the first.

"You're going to have to leave."

She could hear a deep voice complaining as a door was closed. But Juliana didn't care; let them have their trivial arguments. She had more important things to think about, like settling into the deep darkness that was quickly surrounding her.

~*~*~

It was like a dream. The soft darkness, the gentle lull of voices just out of reach. Just like a dream, though, the softness changed all too quickly. Fire consumed her. Burning through her body unchecked. She wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but her throat would not work, her voice had disappeared.

Time passed. The fire burned and cooled, a cruel cycle that she wished would cease. Her world remained dark, the voices came and went. With each return the voices grew more concerned, they tried to coax her from her cocoon. But here, within the darkness, she could hide away from the pain of life. Despite the fire, she was in no hurry to return to the light.

~*~*~

Cool skin touched her fevered brow, caressed her sweat soaked arm quenching the fire that burned inside her. Juliana wanted – no, needed – more. She turned her aching head to capture more of the tender touch.

"How is she?" A rough voice, so familiar yet unrecognizable. The sound of it caused her heart to speed up. Why was it so far away?

"Her fever broke last night." Another voice, right above her, harsh and unyielding.

The other voice did not answer. Where was it? Where had they gone? The hand caressing her arm wrapped around her own hand, calloused fingers brushing against hers.

Juliana forced in a shaky breath, trying to open her eyes, wanting to see who sat with her. Her body protested, craving sleep instead of wakefulness. She slowly sank back into the happy oblivion.

~*~*~

Galahad was almost certain he could see a path down the corridor from where he had spent every free moment the past week pacing. Pacing and waiting for any news of Juliana's condition. He had been forbidden to enter her room, why he did not know, so he had been forced to rely on the good graces of the nurses who tended to Juliana.

The first few days had been the worst. Not knowing whether or not she would live or die. The nurses and maids had been running frantically in and out of Juliana's bed chamber, bringing in buckets of water, arm loads of fire wood, and herbs to sweat out the fever that raged within her.

He tried to question the midwife tending to Juliana, but the old crone would say nothing to him, only glare at him and _harrumph_ before slamming the thick wooden door in his face. Galahad was at his wits end.

When he had first heard the news of her illness he had been taking care of his horse. The rain had been falling steadily for over three hours and the ground was a muddy bog. Over the dull thudding of the rain on the thatched roof, Galahad had heard the harried footsteps that raced as quickly as they could through the mire. Squelching and squishing their way, the footsteps made it past the door of the stable and Galahad caught sight of Gawain carrying a limp figure in his arms. His curiosity was strong, and Galahad followed Gawain as he raced into Arthur's court. It was in the dim light of the torches that he saw her face, pale and sickly in the dancing flames. Galahad felt his heart crash into his stomach.

Juliana's body was pale as a corpse. Perhaps she was already dead. Galahad raced to hold her in his arms. He needed to know, needed to feel her. Gawain had tried to keep his hold on Juliana, but Galahad fought to get her into his arms.

"Give her to me!" He had cried, his arms shaking as fear took hold. With a look of pity, Gawain placed Juliana in his arms. Her breathing was shallow, forced, and Galahad clutched her close to his body as her frigid skin chilled him.

"Juliana," he whispered in her ear, "come back to me, please come back to me." One tear fell from his eye, falling onto her hair to rest with the rain drops.

He had been allowed to carry her to her room and set her on the bed. After that, he had been pushed from the room and the door firmly closed behind him. Nine days had passed since then.

"Galahad," Arthur's voice pulled him from his reminiscence. Turning to look at his friend and king, Galahad could hardly muster a smile at his presence.

"No change?" Arthur asked, glancing at the door to Juliana's chambers. Galahad shook his head, his own gaze not moving from the door.

"Everything will be alright." His friend reassured him, placing a hand on Galahad's shoulder.

"I hope so." Muttered Galahad, a lump forming in his throat. With one last reassuring smile, Arthur left Galahad to continue his worrying.


End file.
